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SEYMOUE'S,
HUMQROUS SKETCHES,

COMPRISING

EIGHTY-SIX CAEICATUKE ETCHINGS.

ILLUSTRATED

IN PEOSE AND VEESE,
BY ALFRED CROWQUILL.

NEW EDITION.

WITH A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF THE PLATES AND A BIOGRAPHICAL
NOTICE OF ROBERT SEYMOUR, INCLUDING AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS CONNEXION WITH THE PICKWICK PAPERS, BY

HENEY G. BOHN.

LONDON:
HENEY G. BOHN, HENEIETTA STEEET, COVENT GAEDEN.
1872.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE
BY HENRY G. BOHN.

Eobert Seymour, a graphic humourist of the highest order,
was born in or near London, about the year 1800. He was
apprenticed at the usual age to Mr. Thomas Vaughan, an eminent
pattern-drawer in Spitalfields, and his practice in that department
of art appears to have given him the facility and accuracy of
pencil for which he was afterwards so distinguished. Within a
very short period of fulfilling his term of apprenticeship, he com
menced, on his own account, as a painter in oils, and must have
been tolerably expert at that early age, as already in the spring
of 1822, we find him exhibiting a picture of some pretensions at
the Royal Academy, which is thus described in the Catalogue.
" The Christians deterred by the terrors of enchantment,
from felling timber to construct their machines of an
noyance." ¦ And three succeeding days

The boldest warriors, urged by thirst of praise,
Essayed the dreary wood, but, struck with dread,
Each Knight by turns the threatening terror fled."
Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, v. xiii.
He executed various other oil-paintings about this period,
including a large biblical subject of 100 figures, and an illustra
tion of Don Quixote, besides portraits and miniatures ; but tbe
more pressing demand on his talents was for drawings on wood,
a mode of book-illustration then in great vogue. The various
illustrated books and periodicals published for the next ten or
A2

iv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.
twelve years bespeak his popularity and industry in that depart
ment. Among them may be mentioned the following :
The History of Enfield, by Robinson, 2 vols. 8vo. 1823, con
taining woodcuts of a topographical character.
Friendship's Offering, 1824-1836, first published by Lupton
Relfe, and subsequently by Smith and Elder, in which
some of the Sketches are by Seymour.
Richardson's New Minor Drama, with Remarks biographical
and critical by W. T. Moncrieff, 5 vols. 18mo. containing
36 Plays, published between 1827 and 1830, nearly all
with woodcut frontispieces after Seymour's Drawings.
The Odd Volume (a Sequel to Cruikshank at Home), Lond.
Kidd, 1830, fall of Seymour's designs, as are also several
other of Mr. Kiddrs comic publications of this date.
The Comic Offering, edited by Miss Louisa Sheridan, and pub
lished by Smith and Elder, from 1831 to 1835, with
numerous woodcuts after Seymour.
The Comic Magazine, conducted by Gilbert A'Becket and the
Brothers Mayhew, 1832 to 1834, 4 vols. 18mo. with up
wards of 300 woodcuts after Seymour.
The Penny Magazine, published by Mr. C. Knight in 1832 and
after, under the patronage of the Society for Promoting
Useful Knowledge, some of the woodcuts by Seymour.
Penn's Maxims and Hints on Angling, Shooting, and other
matters, also Miseries of Fishing, 12mo. 1833, with wood
cuts, some after Seymour.
Figaro in London, edited and published by Gilbert A'Beckett,
from December 1831 to 1836, (afterwards continued by
others to 1838.) This series contains nearly 300 wood
cuts after Seymour. They were also published separately
as -Seymour's Caricature Gallery;' and after his death
were all re-published on six large sheets, each containing
20 subjects, as ' Seymour's Comic Scrap Sheets'
Although Seymour's hands were full of commissions for draw
ing on wood, and he was paid for them on his own terms, he was
always desirous of practice in a more independent department of
art, feeling that the engraver, however competent, failed to com-

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. V
municate the full force of his drawing. He, therefore, gladly
hailed any opportunity of etching or engraving his own designs
on copper or steel.
In 1827 he etched six clever plates, much in the manner of
George Cruikshank, to illustrate a volume entitled ' Vagaries in
quest of the Wild and Wonderful,' by Piers Shafton, Gent., (the
pseudonyme of Mr. Beck), which was a great success, and ran
through three editions. In the same year he married his first
cousin, Miss Jane Holmes, one of a numerous family living at
Hoxton, by whom he had two children, a son and daughter, who
both survive him.
The art of Lithography having, about this period, attained
great perfection in England, under the fostering care of the late
Mr. Hullmandel, he turned his attention in that direction, and
executed a considerable number of detached sketches of which
we have no exact record. But in 1830, he projected and con
ducted Mr. McLean's lithographic series of Caricatures, called
'The Looking Glass,' which was continued monthly till 1836.
He also published with McLean, in 1834, a series of nine large
lithographic plates, entitled ' The Schoolmaster abroad ;' a hit at
the educational movement then stimulated by Lord Brougham;
and in the same year he commenced a small lithographic series,
eventually extended to upwards of 300 plates, entitled 'New
Readings of Old Authors/ in which he gave humourous ilustra-
tions of twenty-four of Shakespeare's plays, (10 plates to each),
Byron's Giaour, Schiller's William Tell, &c. The Shakespeare
series was a few years after his death collected and published in
4 vols. 18mo. by Tilt and Bogue, who, in an advertisement pre
fixed, lament the loss of Seymour as an artist of the highest pro
mise, and announce that the lithographic stones had been effaced.
In 1835, he contributed all the etchings, 36 in number, to the
' Book of Christmas, descriptive of its Customs, Traditions, Super
stitions,' &c, a small volume published by his friend Mr. Spooner,

vi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.
and to which the letter-press was furnished by the late Mr. T. K .
Hervey. This well executed, and now rare volume, failed to
meet with the success it deserved, in consequence of not being
ready till the day after Christmas, instead of a full month before
as is usual with such publications. The copyright and copper
plates were purchased from Mr. Spooner by Mr. Henry G. Bohn,
and are now in his possession.
Seymour, it may be here observed, was very successful in full
length lithographic sketches of public characters, and has left us
many life-like portraits of members ofthe Turf and Drama between
1830 and 1836. Some ofthe principal Sporting characters, namely,
the Duke of Grafton, Osbaldiston, General Grosvenor, the Earl
of Jersey, Lord George Bentinck, C. C. Greville, Thornhill, Gully,
General Peel, the Earl of Chesterfield, &c, are given in Tatter-
sail's Gallery of English Race Horses; and his Dramatic por
traits — Lablache, Taglioni, Fanny Kemble, Paganini, and others
— were published and sold separately;
But of all 'Seymour's various works, his ' Humorous Sketches,'
which are here republished from the steel-plates, were his prime
favourites, and will best perpetuate his name. They were first
published between the years 1834 and 1836, in detached prints at
3d each, by Mr. Richard Carlisle, of Fleet Street, (notorious as
the publisher of Paine's Age of Reason,) who, we are told, ob
tained them from the artist at the rate of fifteen shillings per
drawing on the stone, and made a large profit by their sale, as
they were very popular. Carlisle fell into difliculties just pre
vious to Seymour's death, and sold the copyright and litho
graphic stones for something like their original cost to Mr.
Henry Wallis, the well-known engraver and picture dealer,
who parting with the stones to Mr. Tregear of Cheapside, but
retaining the copyright, transferred the drawings very skilfully
to steel, and published them in 1838, with letterpress by Crow-
quill (Alfred Henry Forrester), the popular humorist of the day.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. - vii
The next edition was issued by the present publisher (Henry
G. Bohn) in 1842, and having become extremely scarce, is here
with re-published from the same steels, with the addition of a
descriptive List of the Plates by himself.
We have now to record the most painful period of Mr. Sey
mour's life. In the autumn o£ 1835, he had conceived the idea of
publishing, in shilling numbers, a series of humorous sketches
of sporting-life, blended into a connected story by assuming the
different individuals to be members of a cockney club. Having
consulted two or three publishing friends, and shewn them some
half-dozen sketches which he had prepared, they so cordially
approved his scheme that he determined to proceed with it as
soon as practicable. While undetermined as to a publisher, he
casually mentioned his scheme to that energetic firm Messrs.
Chapman and Hall, who had occasion to call upon him towards
the end of the year relative to some drawings he had in hand for
them, for a Christmas volume advertised as ' The Squib, a new
Satirical Annual with twelve crack Illustrations, by R. Seymour;'
and they, upon inspecting his Sketches, immediately closed with
him. We are informed that the agreed "price was five pounds per
etching on steel, without any other further interest in the publica
tion. The next object was to find a comic writer of adequate powers
to furnish the letter-press, and Messrs. Chapman first applied to Mr.
Clark, a solicitor, who had acquired some literary reputation by
contributing the letter-press to Geo. Cruikshank's ' Three Courses
and a Dessert.' But Mr. Seymour had quarrelled with Clark, for
having charged him with heavy costs in a suit which he had
gained, and would not therefore hear of him. Mr. Chapman, there-
upon,suggested Mr. Charles Dickens, who had already distinguished
himself in humorous writing in 'The Morning Chronicle ' and
the ' Monthly Magazine,' under the pseudonyme of Boz, and had
recently published two of the volumes still known as ' Sketches
by Boz,' with etchings by George Cruikshank. Seymour, we are

VU1 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE,
told by his widow, (in her printed statement), took home the
volumes for her critical opinion as to whether Boz, " a poor and
" struggling author (to use her words), whose works have been un
successful, would answer the purpose to write the Pickwick
" Papers," and she, though declaring that the Sketches " created
" no amusement in her," consented, with an apparent feeling of com
passion, to select him, observing that " fifteen pounds a month, poor
" fellow, will be a little fortune to him." After this, all the parties
concerned met, and the first number of the Pickwick Papers, con
taining four etchings by Seymour, appeared in due course. Its re
ception by the public, though not so unanimous as it became
after the introduction of Sam Weller in the fourth number, was
unequivocal ; and the author, artist, and publisher, could not but
be ela'ted. Mrs. Seymour thinks all the success was due to her
husband's sketches, and that Mr. Dickens would have been no
where without them, or to quote her exact words, " consigned to
"obscurity for the remainder of his days, unless Mr. Seymour
"had permitted him to edit the Pickwick Papers." Every
body else will be apt to think that Mr. Dickens's writing had a
great deal to do with it ; but we must make large allowances for
conjugal affection.
Before the second number appeared our artist became "ex-
"treinely angry" at what he seems to have considered the
unwarrantable introduction of a story — the Stroller's Tale — not
contemplated in his arrangements, and which necessitated a
.different drawing (the Dying Clown) ; this difficulty, however, we
are informed by Mrs. Seymour, was got over by her intercession
with her husband, and all would have gone on well, had not
vexations and anxieties of a more trying character arisen in other
quarters. The one whicli Mrs. Seymour assumes to have preyed
most on his mind, and to have proved eventually fatal, was " the
"unhappy feud between him and the proprietor and editor (Gil-
" bert A'Beckett) of ' Figaro in London/ " Seymour had contri
buted all the drawing and engraving to that popular predecessor

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. ix
of Punch from its commencement, and had been regularly paid
till Mr. A'Beckett got into difficulties through theatrical specu
lations; when Seymour, failing to obtain payment of Mr. Beckett's
note of hand for a debt of some forty pounds, half of which he
was out of pocket for engraving, refused to proceed further with
out cash payments. This must have occurred just before August
16th, 1834, as that number has no woodcut, wliich is an exception
to all the others. Mr. Beckett thereupon, although he had con
stantly and lavishly praised Seymour's sketches in the previous
numbers of Figaro, calling him "the justly celebrated comic artist,"
and "our illustrious artist," suddenly turned round upon him, and
attacked his artistic reputation with intense virulence, telling his
readers among other things, that he "must procure first-rate talent,
&c." thereby implying that Seymour's talent was only second-rate.
The subsequent numbers of Figaro are full of unwarrantable
attacks upon him to the end of the year. We quote one from
No. 154, November 15th, 1834, published under the guise of
'Notes to Correspondents,' as a specimen: — "It is not true that
" Seymour has gone out of his mind, because he never had any to
"go out of. That he has lost his senses, as our correspondent
" states, we can believe, though if he should have let them fall
" anywhere, they have doubtless been removed as a nuisance by
" the scavenger. — Another correspondent wants to know ' how it
" is Seymour can't write his own name V We reply ! Upon the
" same principle that a donkey can't quote Metastasio — Ignorance,
"gross and beastly ignorance ! We are told that in the year 1815,
" a subscription was raised among a few friends of civilization,
" and enemies of idiotcy, to teach Seymour to spell ; but his hard
"and obstinate bit of brain rebounded from the process in its
" infancy, and the result was, he never got beyond words of one
" syllable. Poor man, now that he is deprived of our benevolent
" and condescending patronage, we understand he is obliged to
" speculate on his own account in miserable caricatures, which
" don't sell, and which of course are not worth purchasing. The

X BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.
" fact is, Seymour never had an idea of his own, though he was
" sometimes happy in the execution. But it is a well-known fact,
" that the ideas for the caricatures in Figaro were always supplied
" to him by the Editor, Seymour being a perfect dolt except in
" the mechanical use of his pencil."
The public, however, saw through these flimsy pretences, and
so much resented Mr. Beckett's disgraceful treatment of Sey
mour, that he found it advisable to retire from the editorship of
the journal, and within little more than a month of the attack
we have quoted, Mr. H. Mayhew became sole editor, and im
mediately restored Mr. Seymour with all courtesy ; printing his
name in conspicuous letters on the title page, where it had
never been placed before.
Whatever was the cause of Mr. Seymour's melancholy end,
whether the old vexations of Figaro, the new ones of Pickwick,
a profitless law-suit, the constant pressure on his brain for fresh
invention, losses in Spanish bonds in which he had invested his all,
or anxieties which have not transpired, it would be fruitless to in
quire, but we think it very likely that all these causes tended in
one and the same direction. Though full of humour and geni
ality, a lively and agreeable companion, fond of the drama, races,
and sports of every kind, he was nervous and highly sensitive,
and one moody moment to a man of such temperament may
easily prove fatal ; and so it was with Seymour. He died by his
own hand on the 20th April, 1836. One of the papers of the day,
in recording his death, adds :—" Poor Seymour the Caricaturist,
" with all his relish for fun and quick perception of the humor-
"ous, was subject to dreadful fits of melancholy and despon-
" dency, in one of which he committed suicide. The contrast is
" strange but not inexplicable, nor indeed so strange as it may
" appear, since literary biography affords abundant proof of such
" conditions. He was undoubtedly a man of considerable talent,
"and his premature loss is greatly to be deplored."

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. XI
In the preceding sketch we have been governed by informa
tion collected from several of Seymour's friends still living, and
the cautious use of a privately printed and very acrimonious but
self-disproving brochure, by Mrs. Seymour, called^' An Account
of the Origin of the Pickwick Papers.' We now think it right
to give Mr. Dickens's own account, prefacing it with his feeling
tribute to the memory of Mr. Seymour, which appeared with the
second number of the work : —
" Some time must elapse before the void the deceased gentle-
" man has left in his profession can be filled up ; the blank his
" death has occasioned in the society which his amiable nature
" won, and his talents adorned, we hardly hope to see supplied.
" We do not allude to this distressing event in the vain hope of
" adding by any eulogium of ours, to the respect in which the late
" Mr. Seymour's memory is held by all. who ever knew him."
Mr. Dickens's own account of the origin of the Pickwick Vapcrs.
" I was a young man of three and twenty, when the present
" publishers, attracted by some pieces I was at that time writing
" in the Morning Chronicle newspaper (of which one series had
" lately been collected and published in two volumes, illustrated
" by my esteemed friend Mr. George Cruikshank), waited upon
" me to propose a something that should be published in shilling
" numbers. When I opened my door in Furnival's Inn to the
" managing partner who represented the firm, I recognized in
" him the person from whose hands I had bought, two or three
" years previously, and whom I had never seen before or since,
" my first copy of the Magazine,* in which my first effusion, —
" dropped stealthily one evening at twilight, with fear and
" trembling, into a dark letter box, in a dark office, up a dark
* The Monthly Magazine for January, 1834, containing ' Mrs. Joseph
Porter, over the way.' — The subsequent numbers of the same year con
tain his ' Horatio Sparkins,' — ' The Boarding House,' — ' The Bloomsbury
Christening,'— all republished in ' Sketches by Boz.'

xii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.
"court in Fleet Street— appeared in all the glory of print.
" The idea propounded to me was that the monthly something
" should be a vehicle for certain plates to be executed by Mr.
" Seymour, and there was. a notion, either on the part of that
" admirable humorous artist, or of my visitor (I forget which),
" that a ' Nimrod Club/ the members of which were to go out
"shooting, fishing, and so forth, and getting themselves into
" difficulties through their want of dexterity, would be the best
"means of introducing these. I objected, on consideration,
" that although born and partly bred in the country, I was no
" great sportsman, except in regard of all kinds of locomotion ;
" that the idea was not novel, and had been already much used ;
" that it would be infinitely better for the plates to arise
" naturally out of the text ; and that I should like to take my
" own way, with a freer range of English scenes and people, and
" was afraid I should ultimately do so in any case, whatever
" course I might prescribe to myself at starting. My views
" being deferred to, I thought of Mr. Pickwick, and wrote the
" first number ; from the proof sheets of which, Mr. Seymour
"made his drawing of the Club, and that happy portrait of
".its founder, by which he is always recognized, and which may
" be said to have made him a reality. I connected Mr. Pick-
" wick with a club because of the original suggestion, and I put
"in Mr. Winkle expressly for the use of Mr. Seymour. We
" started with a number of twenty-four pages instead of thirty-
" two, and four illustrations in lieu of a couple. Mr.. Seymour's
" sudden and lamented death before the second number was pub-
" lished brought about a quick decision upon a point already in
"agitation; the number became one of thirty-two pages with
" two illustrations, and remained so to the end. My friends told
" me it was a low, cheap form of publication, by wliich I should
" ruin all my rising hopes ; and how right my friends turned out
" to be, everybody now knows."
January 4, 1866.

DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF THE PLATES.

1. Engraved Title. The Showman, and "such a getting up Stairs."
2. A Day's Sport, Chapter 1. (Travellers on a Coach-box;
- Cockney's guir pointed at Old Gentleman's face.) " Loaded
or not loaded, it's very unpleasant to ride with that gun of yours,
#c."  Page 1
3. A Day's Sport, Chap. 2. (Cockney shooting a pig in mistake
for a hare.) " Vot, eighteen shillings for that ere little pig f 3
4. A Day's Sport, Chap. 3. (Cockney trespasser chmbing a
fence.) "A man coming, inch vay? do tell me vich vayf 5
5. A Day's Sport, Chap. 4. (Cockney shooting through a hedge,
hits a gardener's legs, glass, &c.) " Vill you have the goodness
to hand me that little bird I've just slwt off your hedge." . 7
6. A Day's Sport, Chap. 5. (Cockneys with a brace of Sparrows.)
" Landlord, ve should like to have this 'ere game dressed." . 9
7. A Day's Sport, Chap. 6. (The Reckoning.) " Vei, if this is
finding our oum whittles, ve'll dine at tlie hornary next time." 1 1
8. A Day's Sport, Chap. 7. (A sudden explosion of gun in com
panion's face.) " My gun went off quite by haccident, and if
your nose is spoilt can't you have a vax vun." . . . 13
9. Every Day Scenes, Scene 1. (Angler asleep, overtaken by
the tide.) " Valked twenty miles over night; up before peep
o'day again, got a capital place, fell fast asleep, $c." . 15
10. Every Day Scenes, Scene 2. (Urchins shooting a cage bird;
old woman screaming.) "A Lark early in the morning." 17
11. Every Day Scenes, Scene 3. (Coalheavers . in the Byron
Coffee House.) " You shall have the paper directly, sir, but
really the Debates is so werry interesting." . . . 19
12. Every Day Scenes, Scene 4. (Early mornmg Gossips; two
housemaids doing scandal.) " Oh Sally, I told my Missus vot
you said your Missus said about her." . . . . 21
13. Every Day Scenes, Scene 5. (Home-made Clothes; a loose fit.)
"How does it fit behind? Oh, beautiful/ I've done wonders." 23

XIV DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF PLATES.
14. Every Day Scenes, Scene 6. (The Angler in a shivering
breeze.) "Catching — a cold."  25
15. Every Day Scenes, Scene 7. (Boat upset, fat lady tumbling
into the stream.) "Help! Help! Oh you murderous little
villin, this is vot you calls rowing, is it?" ... 27
16. Every Day Scenes, Scene 8. (Angling from a rotten branch,
which breaks.) " In for it, or frying the middle." . .29
17. Every Day Scenes, Scene 9. (Urchins shooting a pet cat;
old woman in agony.) "Shoot away, Bill ! never mind the old
woman, she can't get over the wall to us." . . . 31
18. Every Day Scenes, Scene 10. Sept. 1st. (An unmistakable
rainfall ; Cockney thoroughly drenched.) " An only opportu-
tunity, I begin to think I may as well go back." . . 33
19. Every Day Scenes, Scene 11. (Angling in a well.) "Mother
says fishes comes from hard roes, so I chuck' d in the roe of a red
herring last week." ."  35
20. Every Day Scenes, Scene 12. (Ambition.) "Candidates
climbing to the head of the poll, which is greased, for a pig." 37
21. Every Day Scenes, Scene 13. (Better luck next time.) "A
rope breaking with a man who has attempted to hang himself." 39
¦ 22. Every Day Scenes, Scene 14. (Quizzing an ancient Angler.)
" Don't you be saucy, boys."  41
23. Every Day Scenes, Scene 15. (A drunken Couple.) " Vy
Sarah, you're drunk, I am quite ashamed o'you." . . 43
24. Every Day Scenes, Scene 16. (Benighted Traveller, in a
Storm of Eain, mile-post marking 6 miles.) " Lawk a-mercy,
I'm going wrong, and got to walk all that way back again." 45
25. Every Day Scenes, Scene 17. (A Sporting Dandy missing a
flight of sparrows.) " I'm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em.'' 47
26. Every Day Scenes, Scene 18. (Literary Coalheaver and
Butcher in a Coffee House.) " Have you read the leader in this
paper, Mr. Brisket, &c."  49
27. Every Day Scenes, Scene 19. (A Cockney Sportsman in a
fix, by his civility to a foot-pad.) "Now you've lent us your
gun, you may as veil lend us your votch." . . . 51
28. Every Day Scenes, Scene 20. (Courtship of Mr. Wiggins,
in a rural bower.) "Mr. Viggins, do you take sugar? Fes,
my hangel, I love all wot's sweet." . . . . 53

DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF PLATES. XV
29, Every Day Scenes, Scene 21. (Courtship of Mr. Wiggins—
continued.) "Indeed, Mr. Viggins, I von't valk with you, your
quite elevated."  55
30. Every Day Scenes, Scene 22. (The Itinerant Musician.)
" There's threepence for you, and Master wishes you'd move on."
" Threepence; indeed, I never moves on under Sixpence." . 57
31. Every Day Scenes, Scene 23. (Cockney Sportsmen startled
at a common snake.) " Oh ! lor, here's a norrid thing." 59
32. Every Day Scenes, Scene 24. (Anglers trespassing ; "Beware
the Dog," posted up.) " Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites over
there." " No, but I am afeard I shall soon." . . 61
33. Every Day Scenes, Scene 25. (Timmins Angling. Cut-
purse surprises him.) " TMs is a very lonely spot, Sir; I wonder
you arn't afeard of being robbed." .... 63
34. Every Day Scenes, Scene 26. (Old Foozle Angling.) "I
say, Jack, are there any fish in this pond ?" " They must be werry
small, cos there vos no vater in it afor that 'ere rain yesterday." 65
35. The " Crack Shots." No. 1. (The Cockney and Bird-catcher.)
" I've got a visper for you, Sir; the next time you shoots a bird vot
I've brought to my call, I'll shoot you into a clay-pit, &c." 67
36. The "Crack Shots." No. 2. (The Booby Sportsman.) "How
dare you carry a loaded gun pointed at people's viscera, you booby."
" I don't know what you mean, I never shot a wiserar." . 69
37. The " Crack Shots." No. 3. (A natural alarm.) " You
needn't be afeard, Sir, I a'nt a haming at you." . . 71
38. The Pic-nic. No. 1. (A boat load. Warning: "Not allowed
to land and dine.") " Oh ! oh ! very well; then we'll only land
here and dine a little further on." .... 73
39. The Pic-nic. No. 2. (Unpacking the supplies.) "Oh dear! here's
the sherry and mix' d pickle broke" " Yes, and they've broke into
the pastry too."  75
40. Doctor Spraggs. (His new purchase of an old hunter, which
runs away with him.) " Throw physic to, fhe dogs. Whoy !
wJwy I whoy ! I don't want to go a hunting, if you do." 77
41. The Bill-sticker. (The Dandy's misfortune.) " Oh dear, Sir,
it was the wind, to think it should be pasted too." . . 79
42. The Bumpkin, (Domestic Economy, old woman presiding.)
" Not make a dinner of horse-beans, you dainty dog." . 81
43. The Pouter and the Dragon. {The Farmer's whack.)
" Another pigeon, egad, I'm in luck's way this morning." 83

xvi descriptive list of plates.
44. Strawberries and Cream. (A Gourmand regaling.) "As
savoury as a pot of treacle to a blue-bottle." ... 85
45. The Jolly Anglers. (Anglers under the influence of Barclay
and Perkins.) " Don't you like a day's fishing, Sam ?" 87
46. The Eating House. Clerical Gent, in a soft voice .— " A small
portion of veal and ham, well done." Waiter, in a voice of
thunder : — " Plate of weal, and dam veil done." . . 89.
47. Example. (AngUng in a new fashion.) " See, George, this is the
way to handle your tackle ; drop it gently in the water, &c." 91
48. Practice. (School-boys Eifle shooting.) " ' Out of the way,
Sugar-lips, I am sure I shall hit him this time.' ' Murder !' cries
old Flank'em of the Finishing Academy." ... 93
49. Precept. (An Old Toper, teaching the young Idea.) " Young
men should practise sans intermission until they can drink four
bottles without being flustered."  95
50. A Day's Pleasure. No. 1. The Journey Out. (Mr. Sibson
and Spouse taking out their Children, he dragging the chaise.)
" It's werry hot, but werry pleasant." .... 97
51. A Day's Pleasure. No. 2. The Journey Home. (All soaked
through in a heavy fall of rain.) "Vot a soaking ve shall get." 99
52. A Day's Pleasure. No. 3. Dobbs's Duck. (Mr. Dobbs's wife
overboard.) " The deep deep sea. Mr. Dobbs singing : ' Hearts
as warm as those above lie under the waters cold.' " . 101
53. Practical Joker. No. 1. (Jim Smith, masked as a Demon,
perched on a stile.) " D'ye want a pound of magic sJwt?" ] 03
54. Practical Joker. No. 2. (Tom's Eeprisal— about to shoot.)
" Oh Tom, don't sJioot, don't shoot, it's only me, Jim Smith." 105
55. Fishing for Whiting at Margate. (Qualmishness,) " You'll
be sure, Sir, to feel when there's anything on your hook—dorit you
feel anything yet?" " Yes, I feels werry unwell." . 107
56. Andrew Mullins. (The Cobbler's Sausage feast. Chapters 1
and 2.) " Tom, set open the door and vinder, and let the neiglv-
bours smell we have something respectable for once." 109 111
57. — Chapter 3. (The 'tosticated wife in a barrow, her husband
wheeling.) "I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly, but Pve a
blessed mind to turn her out."  113
58. — Chapter 4. A Situation. (City Sportsmen feeding.) "I
say, Jim, what birds are we most like now ?" " Why, swallows to
be sure I" ••••-... 115

DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF PLATES. xvii
59. — Chapter 5. The Stalking Horse. (Urchins shooting a
game-cock in a farm-yard,) " Oh, here's sich a plummy one, you
hear his singing."  118
60: — Chapter 6. A Commission. (The Irish Smugglers, one on
shoulders of the other.) " Och thin, Paddy, what's the bothera
tion, if you carry me ? don't I carry tlie whiskey ?" . 121
61. — - Chapter 7. The Cricket Match. (Maximo-rotundo Crob-
ble bowled out.) "Out, so don't fatigue yourself, I beg, Sir." 123
62. — Chapter 8. The Hunter. (Crobble spilt off his horse.)
" Hunting may be sport, but I'm bless'd if if s pleasure." 125
63. — Chapter 9. A Eow to Blackwall. (Aunt Betty and Miss
Scrags spilt.) " To be sold, warranted sound, a grey mare, very
fast, and carries a lady; likewise a bay cob, &c" . . 127
64. — Chapter 10. The Pic-nic. (On the banks of the Lea.) "Oh
lawks, there's that nasty cow walking all over our dinner, '&c.r' 129
65. — Chapter 11. Journey Home. (Sailors riding-pillion, back to
back.) " Coning and steering; Starboard! Tom, starboard!" 131
66. — Chapter 12. Monsieur Dubois. (A poor French teacher,
with Episode of a fighting dustman and a crossing-sweeper ;
" / shan't fight with fistesses, its vulgar, but if he's a mind for any
thing like a gemmen liere's my card." . . . . 133
67. — Chapter 13. My Talent called into active Service.
(Sweeps sneering at a Black Servant.) " Bob, arn't you glad
you ain't a Blackemoor?"  135
68. — Chapter 14. A Dilemma. (A chaise party in a fix, having
lost their way.) " Be cawnt gow back cause fha locks the gates,
and forwards the roads are under water." . . . 137
69. — Chapter 15. An old Acquaintance. (A School-boy
breaking the barometer.) " Only three holidays left, and still
fhisplaguey glass says very wet" . . . . 139
70. — Chapter 16. The Loss of a Friend. (A Musical Dust
man in a music-shop.) " / say, Marm, do you happen to have
the hair of ' All round my hat,' or ' I vears a green villow."' 141
71. — Chapter 17. Promotion. (Steering one way and rowing
another.) " / think there must be something wong about your
rowing."  143
72. A Musical Festival. (Molly Scraggs' bountifulness to the
Itinerant Minstrels.) " Yes, Marm, ifs too fat for your stomach,
I'm sure, Marm."  145

xviii descriptive list of plates.
73. The Mill-stream Angler. This Mill makes a plaguey Ham
mering. (An elderly Sportsman angling in the eddy of a mill-
stream, his coat tails being nailed fast by the Miller's men.) 147
74. Cockney Boaters catching a Crab. (Rival Boaters.) " Now
Jim, lefs show these gals Jww we can row." . . . 149
75. Peter Simple's Foreign Adventure. No. 1. (Baboon and
Indian Squaw.) " Oh ! vy vos I a Midshipman to be wrecked on
this desolate Island ; I vish I vos at Bloomsbury." . 151
76. Peter Simple's Foreign Adventure. No. 2. (The Squaw's
affectionate embrace.) " Here I am married to fhe only daughter
of fhe great Chief, who would have roasted me if I had not given a
joyful consent."  153
77. The Student aloft and the Bull watching for him. "He
sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief." . 155
78. A Rigmarole. Part 1. (A trust without trust, driver's pocket
empty.) " You should have gone home the way you came; that
ticket won't do here, so out with your coppers." . . 157
79. A Eigmarole. Part 2. (A leap in the dark.) " The Rider's
liead caught in his beaver trap." ..... 159
80. A Eigmarole. Part 3. (Sportsman in a Flower-garden.) "Have
you seen the hounds this way, my good man?" "Hounds!" "Dogs
I mean, you know what a pack of hounds are, don't you?" 161
81. A Dustman and his Doxy. (Short Petticoats.) "Delicacy,
delicacy, my love." " Delicacy, lawks Fred, its not fashionable ; be
sides vots the good o' having a fine leg if one mustn't show it?" .163
82. Steaming It to Margate. (Old Gentleman very qualmish.)
" Steward, bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can." 165
83. An Intercepted Letter (Dick Slammer on his donkey, and
the Starch-up-chap on his hunter ; a bit of Slang.) " I say,
Sir, d'ye think we shall be in time for the hunt?" . . 167
84. The Starch-up-Chap spilt into a Duck-pond. (Dick Slam
mer looking on.) " Vot a rum chap to get over the hedge that
vay, ven here's a regular gate to ride through." . . 169
85. Nobbs' and Dobbs' Misadventure. Gone. (Nobbs and
Nobbs' son losing their fish, basket, bait-box, &c, in the river.)
" Too much luck for the basket." . . . . \f\
86. Dunghill Sporting. (Dick Grubb in a scrape, for shooting a
drake ; gets up a tree.) "Dang it, Pincher, hold unfast." 173

Ice,, I,;/ crwl U;i,ir<J. fls miy M.fl, wmtl CcnWc irith that- aim
,'/ wujy Iii-/.i'iiii //,/<:' ours aw so.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.

A DAY'S SPORT.

" Arma virumque cano."

CHAPTEE I.
The Invitation— the Outfit — and the sallying forth.
To Mr. Augustus Spriggs,
at Mr. Williams's, Grocer, Addle Street.
My dear Chum,
(Tower Street, 31st August, 18  )
Dobbs has give me a whole holiday, and it's my intention
to take the field to-morrow — and if so be you can come over your
governor, and cut the apron and sleeves for a day— why
" Together we will range the fields ;"
and if we don't have some prime sport, my name's not Dick, that's
all. I've bought powder and shot, and my cousin, wliich is shopman
to my ' Uncle. ' at the corner, have lent me a couple of guns that
has been ' popp'd.' Don't mind the expense, for I've sk&t enough
for both. Let me know by Jim if you" can cut your stickvas early
as nine, as I mean to have a lift by the Highgate what starts from
the Bank. \/
Mind, I won't take no refusal — so pitch it strong to the old 'un,
and carry your resolution nem. con.
And believe me to be your old Crony,
Eichard Grubb.
P.S. The guns hasn't got them thingummy ' caps,' but that's no
matter, for cousin says them cocks won't always fight ; while them
as he has lent is reg'lar good — and never misses fire nor fires amiss.

In reply to this elegant epistle, Mr. Eichard Grubb was favoured
with a line from Mr. Augustus Spriggs, expressive of his un
bounded delight in having prevailed upon his governor to ' let him
out;' and concluding with a promise of meeting the coach at
Moorgate.

2 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
At the appointed hour, Mr. Eichard Grubb, ' armed at all points,'
mounted tbe stage — bis hat cocked knowingly over his right eye —
bis gun half-cocked and slung over his shoulder, and a real penny
Cuba in his mouth.
" A fine mornin' for sport," remarked Mr. Eichard Grubb to his
fellow passenger, a stout gentleman between fifty and sixty years
of age, with a choleric physiognomy and a fierce-looking pigtail.
" I dessay — "
"Do you hang out at Highgate 1" continued the sportsman.
"Hang out ?"°
" Ay, are you a hinhabitant ?"
" To be sure I am."
" Is there any birds thereabouts ?"
" Plenty o' geese," sharply replied the old gentleman.
" Ha ! ha ! werry good ! — but I means game ; — partridges and
them sort o' birds."
" I never see any except what I've brought down."
" I only visb I may bring down all I see, that's all," chuckled
the joyous Mr. Grubb. " What's the matter V
" I don't at all like that 'ere gun."
" Lor ! bless you, bow timorsome you are, 't'ain't loaded."
" Loaded or not loaded, it's werry unpleasant to ride with that
gun o' yours looking into one's ear so."
"Veil don't be afeared, I'll twist it over t'other shoulder, —
there ! but a gun ain't a coach, you know, vhich goes off whether
it's loaded or not. Hollo ! Spriggs ! here you are, my boy, lord !
how you are figged out — didn't know you — jump up !"
" Vere's my instrument o' destruction «"' enquired the lively
Augustus, when he had succeeded in mounting to his seat.
" Stow'd him in the boot !"
The coachman mounted and drove off; the sportsmen chatting
and laughing as they passed through 'merry Islington.'
"Vont ve keep the game alive!" exclaimed Spriggs, slapping
hjs friend upon the back.
" I dessay you will," remarked the caustic old boy with the
pigtail; "for it's little you'll kill, young gentlemen, and that's
my belief."
" On'y let's put 'em up, and see if we don't knock 'em down, as
cleverly as Mister Eobins does his lots," replied Spriggs, laughing
at his own wit.
Arrived at Highgate, the old gentleman with a step-fatherly
anxiety, bade them take care of the ' spring-guns,' in their peram
bulations. "Thankee, old boy," said Spriggs, "but we aint so green as
not to know that spring guns, like spring radishes, go off long
afore Autumn, you know I!

Yot,ri,j/,/<rn skiUmgs /or that ere little J 'ig
biJivuId Iiii it in. Town for seven anr ,iw '

A DAY'S SPORT. 3
CHAPTER II.
The Death of a little Pig, which proves a great Bore !
"Now let's load and prime — and make ready," said Mr. Eichard,
when they had entered an extensive meadow, " and — I say — vot
are you about ? Don't put the shot in afore the powder, you gaby !"
Having charged, they shouldered their pieces and waded through
the tall grass.
" 0 ! crikey ! — there's a heap o' birds," exclaimed Spriggs, look
ing up at a flight of alarmed sparrows. " Shall I bring 'em down 1"
" I vish you could ! I'd have a shot at 'em," replied Mr. Grubb ;
"but they're too high for us, as the alderman said ven they
brought him a couple o' partridges vot had been kept over-long !"
"My eye ; if there ain't a summit •a-moving'in that 'ere grass
yonder — -coek your eye !"
"Cock your gun — and be quiet," said Mr.. Grubb. ¦ The anxiety
of the two sportsmen was immense. . " It's an hare — depend on't —
stoop down — pint your gun, — and when" I say 'fire' — fire! there it
is— 'fire!'"
Bang! bang! went the two guns, and a piercing squeak fol
lowed the report.
" Ve've tickled him," exclaimed Spriggs, as they ran to pick >up
the spoil.
" Ve've pickled him, rayther," cried Grubbs, " for, by gosh it's a
piggy!" "Hallo ! you chaps, what are you arter ?" inquired a man,
popping his head over the intervening hedge. " Vy, I'm blessed
if you ain't shot von o' Stubbs's pigs." And leaping the hedge,
he took the 'pork' in his arms, while the sportsmen, who had used
their arms so destructively, now took to their legs for security.
But ignorance of the locality led them into the midst of a village ;
and the stentorian shouts of the pig-bearer soon bringing a multi
tude at their heels, Mr. Eichard Grubb was arrested in his flight.
Seized fast by the collar, in the grasp of the butcher and constable
of the place, all escape was vain. Spriggs kept a respectful distance.
"Now, my fine fellow," cried he, brandishing his staff, "you
'ither pays for that 'ere pig, or veil fix you in the cage."
Now the said cage not being a bird-cage, Mr. Richard Grubb
could see no prospect of sport in it, and therefore fearfully de
manded the price of the sucking innocent, declaring his readiness
to 'shell out.'
Mr. Stubbs, the owner, stepped forward, and valued it at
eighteen shillings. 1—2

4) SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
"Vot; eighteen shillings for that 'ere little pig !" exclaimed the
astounded sportsman. " Vy, I could buy it in town for seven any
day." But Mr. Stubbs was obdurate, and declared that he would not
' bate a farden ;' and seeing no remedy, Mr. Eichard Grubb was
compelled to ' melt a sovereign,' complaining loudly of the differ
ence between country-fed and town pork !
Shouldering his gun, he joined his companion in arms, amid the
jibes and jeers of the grinning rustics.
" Veil, I'm blowed if that ain't a cooler !" said he.
" Never mind, ve've made a hit at any rate," said the consoling
Spriggs, " and ve've tried our metal."
" Yes, it's tried my metal preciously — changed a suv'rin to two
bob! by Jingo!"
"Let's turn Jews," said Spriggs, "and make a vow never to
touch pork again !"
"Vot's the use o' that?"
" Vy, we shall save our bacon in future, to be sure," replied
Spriggs, laughing ; and, Grubb joining in his merriment, they
began to look about them, not for fresh pork, but for fresh game.
"No more shooting in the grass, mind!" said Grubb, "or ve
shall have the blades upon us agin for another grunter p'r'aps.
Our next haim must be at birds on the ving ! No more forking
out. Shooting a pig ain't no lark — that's poz."

.'/ J/ii/t crmw,/ ' rnr/i ya.yf ,1c t,:// nic rich rai/ .'

A DAY S SPORT.

CHAPTER III.

The Sportsmen trespass on an Enclosure — Grubb gets on a paling
and runs the risk of being impaled.
" Twig them trees ?" said Grubb.
"Prime!" exclaimed Spriggs, "and vith their leaves ve'll have
an hunt there. — Don't you hear the birds a crying ' sveet,' sveet ? '
Thof all birds belong to the Temperance Society by natur', every
body knows as they're partic'larly fond of a little s'rub !"
" Think ve could leap the ditch ?" said -Mr! Eichard, regarding
with a longing look the tall trees and the thick underwood.
" Lauk ! I'll over it in a jiffy," replied the elastic Mr. Spriggs —
" there ain't no obelisk a sportsman can't overcome " — And no
sooner had he uttered these encouraging words, than he made a
spring, and came ' close-legged ' upon the opposite bank ; unfor
tunately, however, he lost his balance, and fell plump upon a huge
stinging nettle, which would have been a treat to any donkey in
the kingdom !
" Oh ! — cuss the thing !" shrieked Mr. Spriggs, losing his equa
nimity with his equilibrium.
" Don't be in a passion, Spriggs," said Grubb, laughing. .
" Me in a passion ? — I'm not in a passion — I'm on'y — on'y
nettled !" replied he, recovering his legs and his good humour.
Mr. Grubb, taking warning by his friend's slip, cautiously looked
out for a narrower part of the ditch, and executed the saltatory
transit with all the agility of a poodle.
They soon penetrated the thicket, and a bird hopped so near
them, that they could not avoid hitting it. — Grubb fired, and
Sprigg's gun echoed the report.
" Ve've done him ! " cried Spriggs.
" Ve ! — me, if you please."
" Veil — no matter," replied his chum — " you shot a bird, and I
shot too !  Vot's that? — my heye, I hear a woice a hollering
like winkin ; bolt ! "
Away scampered Spriggs, and off ran Grubb, never stopping till
he reached a high paling, which, hastily climbing, he found himself
literally upon 'tenter-hooks.'
" There's a man a coming, old fellow," said an urchin, grinning.
" A man coming ! vich vay ? do tell me vich vay 1" supplicated
the sportsman. The little rogue, however, only stuck his thumb
against his snub nose — winked, and ran off.
But Mr. Grubb was not long held in suspense ; a volley of inele
gant phrases saluted his ears, while the thong of a hunting-whip

6 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
twisted playfully about his leg. Finding the play unequal^ he
wisely gave up the ' game ' — by dropping his bird on one side,
and himself on the other; at the same time reluctantly leaving a
portion of his nether garment behind him.
"Here you are !" cried his affectionate friend, — picking him up
— " ain't you cotched it finely ?"
"Ain't I, that's all?" said the almost breathless Mr. Grubb,
" I'm almost dead."
" Dead ! — nonsense — to be sure, you may say as how you're 'off
the hooks !' and precious glad you ought to be."
" Gracious me ! Spriggs, don't joke ; it might ha' been werry
serious," said Mr. Grubb, with a most melancholy shake of the
head : — " Do let's get out o' this wile place."
"Vy, vat the dickens!" exclaimed Spriggs, "you ain't sewed
up yet, are you ?"
" No," replied Grubb, forcing a smile in spite of himself, "I vish
I vos, Spriggs ; for I've got a terrible rent here !" delicately indi
cating the position of the fracture.
And hereupon the two friends, resolving to make no further at
tempt at 'bush-ranging,' made as precipitate a retreat as the
tangled nature of the ' preserve ' permitted.

jru/'i/iia /,<irc //,,' ,/iwcUlcjs to hand, me that- little bird
/ rr. Ju^sL .diet <•// i/nu.r hedge,.*

A DAY'S SPORT.

CHAPTER IV.

Shooting a Bird, and putting a Shot into a Calf.
" On'y think ven ve thought o' getting into a preserve — that ve
got into a pickle," said Spriggs, still chuckling over their last
adventure. " Hush," cried Grubb, laying his hand upon his arm — " see that
bird hopping there ?"
" Ve'll soon make him hop the twig, and no mistake," remarked
Spriggs. " There he goes into the 'edge to get his dinner, I s'pose."
" Looking for a 'edge-sta/ce,I dare say," said the facetious Spriggs.
"Now for it!" cried Grubb — "pitch into him!" and drawing
his trigger, he accidentally knocked off the bird, while Spriggs
discharged the contents of his gun through the hedge.
" Hit summat at last !" exclaimed the delighted Grubb, scamper
ing towards the thorny barrier, and clambering up, he peeped into
an adjoining garden.
" Vill you have the goodness to hand me that little bird I've just
shot off your 'edge," said he to a gardener, who was leaning on
his spade, and holding his right leg in his hand.
"You fool," cried the horticulturist, "you've done a precious
job — You've shot me right in the leg — 0 dear ! 0 dear ! how it
pains !"
" I'm werry sorry — take the bird for your pains," replied Grubb,
and apprehending another pig in a poke, he bobbed down and re
treated as fast as his legs could carry him.
" Vot's frightened you ?" demanded Spriggs^ trotting of beside
his chum. " You ain't done nothing, have you ? "
" On'y shot a man, that's all."
"The devil!"
" It's true — and there'll be the devil to pay if ve're cotched I
can tell you — 'Vy the gardener vill swear as it's a reg'lar plant !
— and there von't be no damages at all, if so be he says he can't do
no work, and is obleeged to keep his bed — so mizzle !"
With the imaginary noises of a hot pursuit at their heels, they
leaped hedge, ditch, and stile, without daring to cast a look behind
them — and it was not until they had put two good miles of culti
vated land between them and the spot of their unfortunate ex
ploit that they ventured to wheel about and breathe again.
"Veil, if this 'ere ain't a rum go!" — said Spriggs — "in four
shots— ve've killed a pig — knocked the life out o' one dicky-bird
— and put a whole charge into a calf. Vy, if ve go on at this rate

8 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
ve shall certainly be taken up and get a setting down in the
twinkling of a bed-post !"
" See if I bairn at any think agin but vot's sitting on a rail or a
post," — said Mr. Richard — "or s'pose, Spriggs, you goes on von
side of an 'edge and me on t'other — and ve'll get the game
between us — and then — "
" Thankye for me, Dick," interrupted Spriggs, " but that'll be a
sort o' cross-fire that I sha'n't relish no how. — Vy it'll be just for
all the world like fighting a jewel — on'y ve shall exchange shots —
p'r'aps vithout any manner o' satisfaction to 'ither on us. No — no
— let's shoot beside von another— for if ve're beside ourselves ve
may commit suicide."
" My vig !" cries Mr. Grubb, "there's a covey on 'em."
" Vere ?"
"There!" " Charge 'em, my lad."
" Stop ! fust charge our pieces."
Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched
in a dry ditch and crawled, stealthily along in order to approach
the tempting "covey" as near as possible.
Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultane
ously touched the triggers.
" Ve've nicked some on 'em."
" Dead as nits," said Spriggs.
" Don't be in a hurry now," said the cautious Mr. Grubb, " ve
don't know for certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit."
"It can't be nothin' but a balloon then," replied Spriggs— "for
ve on'y fired in the hair, I'll take my davy."
Turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they
boldly advanced in order to appropriate the spoil.
" Here's feathers at any rate," said Spriggs — " ve've' blown him
to shivers, by Jingo !" —
"And here's a bird ! hooray !" cried the delighted Grubb — "and
look'ee, here's another — two whole 'uns — and all them remnants
going for nothing as the linen-drapers has it."
"Vot are they, Dick?" inquired Spriggs, whose ornithological
knowledge was limited to domestic poultry ; " sich voppers ain't
robins or sparrers, I take it."
"Vy!" said the dubious Mr. Richard — resting on his gun,
and throwing one leg negligently over the other — "I do think
they're plovers, or larks, or summat of that kind."
" Vot's in a name ; the thing ve call a duck by any other name
vould heat as veil : " declaimed Spriggs, parodying the immortal
Shakspeare. " Talking o' heating, Spriggs — I'm rayther peckish — my
stomick's bin a-crying cupboard for a hour past. — Let's look
hout.for a hinn! "

Landlord' ve- s/wuldlike to have this 'ere- garn^-
dressed- athd-Jsay, landlord-, you, cotv let lis
f'tciM e- plervUy ofni-c-e wedgeta&I&s.

A DAY'S SPORT. 9
CHAPTER V.
An extraordinary Occurrence — a Publican talcing Orders.
Tying the legs of the birds together with a piece of string,
Spriggs proudly carried them along, dangling at his fingers' ends.
After tramping for a long mile, the friends at length discovered,
what they termed, an house of " h entertainment."
Entering a parlour, with a clean sanded floor, (prettily "her
ring-boned," as the housemaids technically phrase it,) furnished
with red curtains, half a dozen beech chairs, three cast-iron
spittoons, and a beer-bleached mahogany table, — Spriggs tugged
at the bell. — The host, with a rotund, smiling face, his nose,
like Bardolph's, blazing with fiery meteors, and a short white
apron concealing his unmentionables, quickly answered the tin-
tinabulary summons.
" Landlord," said Spriggs, who had seated himself in a chair,
while Mr. Richard was adjusting his starched collar at the win
dow; — "Landlord! ve should like to have this 'ere game
dressed." The Landlord eyed the " game " through his spectacles, and
smiled. " Roasted, or biled, Sir ?" demanded he.
"Biled? — no: — roasted, to be sure !" replied Spriggs, amazed
at his pretended obtuseness : ." and, I say, landlord, you can let us
have plenty o' nice wedgetables."
'¦'Greens?" said the host; — but whether alluding to the
verdant character of his guests, or merely making a polite in
quiry as to the article they desired, it was impossible, from his
tone and manner, to divine.
" Greens !" echoed Spriggs, indignantly ; "no: — peas and 'taters."
" Directly, Sir," replied the landlord ; and taking charge of
the two leetle birds, he departed, to prepare them for the table.
" Vot a rum cove that 'ere is," said Grubb.
" Double stout, eh ?" said Spriggs, and then they both " fell
to a-laughing ;" and certain it is, that, although the artist has
only given us a draught of the landlord, he was a subject suffi
cient for a butt !
" Veil ! I must say," said Grubb, stretching his weary legs
under the mahogany, "I never did spend sich a pleasant day
afore — never!"
"Nor T," chimed in Spriggs, "and many a day ven I'm a
chopping up the 'lump' shall I think on it. It's ralely bin
2

10 Seymour's sketches.
a hout and houter ! Lauk ! how Suke vill open her heyes, to be
sure, ven I inform her how ve've bin out with two real guns,
and kill'd our own dinner. I'm bless'd if she'll swallow it ! "
" I must say ve have seen a little life," said Grubb.
" And death too," added Spriggs. " Vitness the pig ! "
" Now don't !" remonstrated Grubb, who was rather sore upon
this part of the morning's adventures.
" And the gardener," persisted Spriggs.
" Hush, for goodness' sake !" said Mr. Richard, very seriously,
"for if that 'ere affair gets vind, ve shall be blown, and  "
— In came the dinner. The display was admirable and very
abundant, and the keen air, added to the unusual exercise of the
morning, had given the young gentlemen a most voracious appe
tite. The birds were particularly sweet, but afforded little more than
a mouthful to each.
The ' wedgetables,' however, with a due proportion of fine old
Cheshire, and bread at discretion, filled up the gaps. It was only
marvellous where two such slender striplings could find room to
stow away such an alarming quantity.
How calm and pleasant was the ' dozy feel ' that followed upon
mastication, as they opened their chests (and, if there ever was a
necessity for such an action, it was upon this occasion,) and loll
ing back in their chairs, sipped the ' genuine malt and hops,' and
picked their teeth !
The talkative Spriggs became taciturn. His gallantry, how
ever, did prompt him, upon the production of a ' fresh pot ' to
say, " Veil, Grubbs, my boy, here's the gals !"
" The gals ! " languidly echoed Mr. Richard, tossing off his tum
bler, with a most appropriate ' smack.'

Vei.' if this is -finding ovr own, wkades, veil dine
at the JTornary rw&C tim e .

A DAY'S SPORT. 11
CHAPTER VI.
The Reckoning.
" Pull the bell, Spriggs," said Mr. Richard, " and let's have the
bill." Mr. Augustus Spriggs obeyed, and the landlord appeared.
"Vot's to pay?"
" Send you the bill directly, gentlemen," replied the landlord,
bowing, and trundling out of the room.
The cook presently entered, and laying the bill at Mr. Grubb's
elbow, took off the remnants of the ' game,' and left the sports
men to discuss the little account.
" My eye ! if this ain't a rum un !" exclaimed Grubb, casting
his dilating oculars over the slip.
" Vy, vot's the damage ?" inquired Spriggs.
"Ten and fourpence."
" Ten and fourpence ! — never !" cried his incredulous companion.
" Vot a himposition."
"Veil!" said Mr. Grubb, with a bitter emphasis, "if this is
finding our own wittles, we'll dine at the hor'nary next time " —
" Let's have a squint at it," said Mr. Spriggs, reaching across
the table ; but all his ' squinting ' made the bill no less, and he
laid it down with a sigh. " It is coming it rayther strong, to be
sure," continued he ; " but I dare say it's all our happearance has
as done it. He takes us for people o' consequence, and " —
" Vot consequence is that to us ?" said Grubb, doggedly.
" Veil, never mind, Dick, it's on'y vonce a-year, as the grotto-
boys says " —
" It needn't to be ; or I'll be shot if he mightn't vistle for the
brads. Howsomever, there's a hole in another suv'rin."
"Ve shall get through it the sooner," replied the consoling
Spriggs. " I see, Grubb, there aint a bit of the Frenchman about
you"— "Vy,pray?"" Cos, — you know, they're fond o' changing their suv'rims and
— you aint!"-
The pleasant humour of Spriggs soon infected Grubb, and he
resolved to be jolly and keep up the fun, in spite of the exorbi
tant charge for the vegetable addenda to their supply of game.
" Come, don't look at the bill no more," advised Spriggs, " but
treat it as old Villiams does his servants ven they displeases him."
" How's that ?"
" Vy, discharge it, to be sure," replied he.
2—2

12 Seymour's sketches.
This sage advice being promptly followed, the sportsmen,
shouldering their guns, departed in quest of amusement. They
had not, however, proceeded far on their way, before a heavy
shower compelled them to take shelter under a hedge.
" Werry pleasant !" remarked Spriggs.
" Keep your powder dry," said Grubb.
"Leave me alone," replied Spriggs; "and I think as we'd
better pop our guns under our coat-tails too, for these ere cocks
aint vater-cocks, you know ! VeD, I never seed sich a rain. I'm
bless'd if it vont drive all the dickey-birds to their nestes."
" I vish I'd brought a numberella," said Grubb.
"Lauk! vot a pretty fellow you are for a sportsman!" said
Spriggs, " it don't damp my hardour in the least. All veathers
comes alike to me, as the butcher said ven he vos a slaughtering
the sheep !"
Mr. Richard Grubb here joined in the laugh of his good-
humoured friend, whose unwearied tongue kept him in spirits —
rather mixed indeed than neat — for the rain now poured down
in a perfect torrent.
" I say, Dick," said Spriggs, " vy are ve two like razors ?"
" Cos ve're good-tempered ?"
" Werry good ; but that aint it exactly — cos ve're two bright
blades, vot has got a beautiful edge !"
"A hexcellent conundrum," exclaimed Grubb. "Ve're do
you get 'em ?"
"All made out of my own head, — as the boy said, ven he
showed the wooden top-spoon to his father !"

My OufLWCJtJ v/'/~ quite? />v /t/ir/'/Jrrt/ ; tntd //'iw//' 7is>S& is
s/'c/// , t:s/r?{ ytuf //f/vr rt \\t/.r {>///¦,'
JW.r f/tr c/ft/cet? '/ \r/t/' nv//////// ////////¦ //ttvr /i/s inx // nosr /// f/7i
////////¦ va.r iv//-/ /// ////" wt'r/t/

A DAY'S SPORT. 13

CHAPTER VII.
A sudden Explosion — a hit by one of the Sportsmen, which
the other takes amiss.
A blustering wind arose, and like a burly coachman on mounting
his box, took up the rams !
The two crouching friends, taking advantage of the cessation
in the storm, prepared to start. But in straightening the acute
angles of their legs and arms, Mr. Spriggs's piece, by some en
tanglement in his protecting garb, went off, and the barrel
striking Mr. Grubb upon the os nasi, stretched him bawling on
the humid turf.
" 0 ! Lord ! I'm shot."
" 0 ! my heye !" exclaimed the trembling Spriggs.
" 0 ! my nose !" roared Grubb.
" Here's a go !"
"It's no go ! — I'm a dead man !" blubbered Mr. Richard.
Mr. Augustus Spriggs now raised his chum upon his legs, and
was certainly rather alarmed at the sanguinary affusion.
" Vere's your hankercher ? — here 1— take mine, — that's it —
there ! — let's look at it."
" Can you see it ?" said Grubb, mournfully twisting about his
face most ludicrously and trying at the same time to level his
optics towards the damaged gnomon.
" Yes !"
" I can't feel it," said Grubb ; " it's numbed like dead."
" My gun vent off quite by haccident, and if your nose is spoilt,
can't you have a vax von ? — Come, it ain't so bad !"
" A vax von, indeed ! who vouldn't rather have his own nose
than all the vax vons in the vorld ?" replied poor Richard. " I
shall never be able to show my face."
" Vy not ? — your face ain't touched, it's on'y your nose !"
" See, if I come out agin in an hurry," continued the wounded
sportsman. " I've paid precious dear for a day's fun. The birds
vill die a nat'ral death for me, I can tell you."
"It vos a terrible blow— certainly," said Spriggs; "but these
things vill happen in the best riggle'ated families !"
" How can that be ? there's no piece in no quiet and respect
able families as I ever seed !"
And with this very paradoxical dictum, Mr. Grubb trudged on,
leading himself by the nose ; Spriggs exerting all his eloquence
to make him think lightly of what Grubb considered such a
heavy affliction ; for after all, although he had received a terrible
contusion, there were no bones broken : of which Spriggs assured
his friend and himself with a great deal of feeling !

14 Seymour's sketches.
Luckily the shades of evening concealed them from the too
scrutinizing observation of the passengers they encountered on
their return, for such accidents generally excite more ridicule
than commiseration.
Spriggs having volunteered his services, saw Grubb safe home
to his door in Tower Street, and placing the two guns in his
hands, bade him a cordial farewell, promising to call and see
after his nose on the morrow.
The following parody of a customary paragraph in the papers
will be considered, we think, a most fitting conclusion to their
day's sport.
" In consequence of a letter addressed to Mr. Augustus Spriggs,
by Mr. Richard Grubb, the parties met early yesterday morning,
but after firing several shots, we are sorry to state that they
parted without coming to any satisfactory conclusion !"

Wal/ced tivenOj mUes over night -up before peep odap again: got a. capital place-tM U
a, steep -tide rose up to my lenees-nuj hat nos changed, nip pockets pick't, and a- risk ra,
iiira-y inth mi/ hook-dreamt of beiny on. „ polar expedition and hariny mp toes frou-

EVERYDAY SCENES.

SCENE I.

" Walked twenty mUes over night : up before peep o' day again :
got a capital place ; fell fast asleep ; tide rose up to my knees ;
my hat was changed, my pockets piclced, and a fish ran away
with my hook ; dreamt of being on a Polar expedition and
having my toes frozen.
O ! Izaak Walton ! — Izaak Vy . 1ton !— - you have truly got me
into a precious lime, and I certainly deserve the rod for having,
like a gudgeon, so greedily devoured the delusive bait, which
you, so temptingly, threw out to catch the eye of my piscatorial
inclination ! I have read of right angles and obtuse angles, and,
verily, begin to believe that there are also right anglers and
obtuse anglers — and that I am really one of the latter class ! —
But never more will I plant myself, like a weeping willow, upon
the sedgy bank of stream or river. No ! — on no account will I
draw upon these banks again, with the melancholy prospect of
no effects ! The most ' capital place ' will never tempt me to
'fish ' again !
My best hat is gone : not the ' way of all beavers ' — into the
water — but to cover the cranium of the owner of this wretched
' tile ;' and in vain shall I seek it ; for this and that are now
certainly as far as the poles asunder.
My pockets, too, are picked ! Yes — some clever ' artist ' has
drawn me while asleep !

16 Seymour's sketches.
My boots are filled with water, and my soles and heels are
anything but lively or delighted. Never more will I impale ye,
Gentle ! on the word of a gentleman ! — Henceforth, 0 ! Hooks !
I will be as dead to your attractions as if I were ' off the
hooks :' and, in opposition to the maxim of Solomon, I will
* spare the rod.'
Instead of a basket of fish, lo ! here's a pretty kettle of fish
for the entertainment of my expectant friends — and sha'n't I be
baited ? as the hook said to the angler : and won't the club get
up a Ballad on the occasion, and I, who have caught nothing,
shall probably be made the subject of a ' catch !'
Slush ! slush ! — Squash ! squash !
0 ! for a clean pair of stockings ! — But, alack, what a tanti-
lizing situation I am in ! — There are osiers enough in the vicinity,
but no hose to be had for love or money !

A lark.
Hitrly m, the- morning.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 17

SCENE II.
A lark — early in the morning. ^
Two youths — and two guns appeared at early dawn in the
suburbs. The youths were loaded with shooting paraphernalia
and provisions, and their guns with the best Dartford gunpowder,
— they were also well primed for sport — and as polished as their
gunbarrels, and both could boast a good stock of impudence.
" Surely I heard the notes of a bird," cried one looking up and
down the street; " there it is again, by Jingo !"
" It's a lark, I declare," asserted his brother sportsman.
" Lark or canary, it will be a lark if we can bring it down,"
replied his companion.
" Yonder it is, in that ere cage agin the wall."
"What a shame!" exclaimed the philanthropic youth; — "to
imprison a warbler of the woodlands in a cage, is the very height
of cruelty — liberty is the birthright of every Briton, and British
bird ! I would rather be shot than be confined all my life in
such a narrow prison. What a mockery too is that piece of
green turf, no bigger than a slop-basin. How it must aggravate
the feelings of one accustomed to range the meadows."
"Miserable ! I was once in a cage myself," said his chum.
" And what did they take you for ?"
" Take me for ? — for a lark."
"Pretty Dickey!"
" Yes, I assure you, it was all dickey with me."
" And did you sing ?"
"Didn't I? yes, i' faith I sang pretty small the next morn
ing when they fined me, and let me out. An idea strikes
me: Suppose you climb up that post, and let out this poor
bird, ey?"
"Excellent."" And as you let him off, I'll let off my gun, and we'll see
whether I can't bang him in the race."
No sooner said than done : the post was quickly climbed — the
3

18 SEYMOUR'S SKETGHES,
door of the cage was thrown open, and the poor bird in an
attempt at ' death or liberty,' met with the former.
Bang went the piece, and as soon as the curling smoke was
dissipated, they sought for their prize, but in vain ; the piece was
discharged so close to the lark, that it was blown to atoms, and
the feathers strewed the pavement,
" Bolt !" cried the freedom-giving youth, " or we shall have to
pay for the lark."
" Very likely," replied the other, who had just picked up a
few feathers, and a portion of the dissipated ' lark, — " for look, if
here ain't the — bill, never trust me."

' -< t-y * r,,.,„i> /..-,„ ;,,, q, .... „,»o ¦ . ¦ *y ty /,-*¦

ttw shall have the paper direct/p. Sir. but reailp the debates are so very interesting.
Oil. pra.ii doitt huriy Sir; its onto the scientific notices I care aioat.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 19

SCENE III.

" You shall have the paper directly. Sir, but really the debates
are so very interesting."
" Oh ! pray don't hurry, Sir, it's only the scientific notices I
care about."
What a thrill of pleasure pervades the philanthropic breast on
beholding the rapid march of Intellect ! The lamp-lighter, but
an insignificant link in the vast chain of society, has now a chance
of shining at the Mechanics', and may probably be the means of
illuminating a whole parish.
Literature has become the favourite' pursuit of all classes, and
the postman is probably the only man who leaves letters for the
vulgar pursuit of lucre ! Even the vanity of servant-maids has
undergone a change — they now study Cocker, and neglect their
figures. But the dustman may be said, par excellence,, to bear — the
bell! In the retired nook of an obscure coffee-shop may frequently
be observed a pair of these interesting individuals sipping their
mocha, newspaper in hand, as fixed upon a column — as the
statue of Napoleon in the Place Vendome, and watching the
progress of the parliamentary bills, with as much interest as the
farmer does the crows in his corn-field !
They talk of ' Peel,' and ' Hume,' and ' Stanley,' and bandy
about their names as familiarly as if they were their particular
acquaintances. " What a dust the Irish Member kicked up in the House last
night," remarks one.
" His speech was a heap o' rubbish," replied the other.
" And I've no doubt was all contracted for ! For my part I
was once a Reformer — but Rads and Whigs is so low, that I've
turned Conservative."
" And so am I, for my Sal says as how it's so genteel !"
" Them other chaps after all on'y wants to throw dust in our
eyes ! But it's no go, they're no better than a parcel o' thimble
3-2

20 Seymour's sketches.
riggers just making the pea come under what thimble they like,
— and it's 'there it is,' and ' there it ain't,'— just as they please —
making black white, and white black, just as suits 'em — but the
liberty of the press — "
" What's the liberty of the press ?"
" Why calling people what thinks different from 'em all sorts
o' names — arn't that a liberty ?"
" Aye, to be sure ! — but it's time to cut— so down with the
dust— and let's bolt!"

'mSm

l/i ' .ial/ii.J told mp Jlissns rot /ion. ^aid penr Jlissus soul
abou/ her. -.¦///. ' and so did J Jiei/ti, f /o/d wip Jlissus rot
una sn/d ueiir'n said of her, tuid re had str/i !i roir.'

EVERY DAY SCENES. 21

SCENE IV.
" Oh ! Sally, I told my missus vot you said your missus said
about her."
" Oh ! and so did I, Betty ; I told my missus vot you said
yourn said of her, and ve had sich a row !"
SALLY.
Oh ! Betty, ve had sich a row ! — there vas never nothink like it; —
I'm quite a martyr
To missus's pranks ; for, 'twixt you and me, she's a bit of a tartar.
I told her vord for vord everythink as you said,
And I thought the poor voman vould ha' gone clean out of her
head. BETTY.
Talk o' your missus ! she's nothink to mine, — I only hope they
von't meet,
Or I'm conwinced they vill go to pulling of caps in the street :
Sich kicking and shrieking there vas, as you never seed,
And she vos so historical, it made my wery heart bleed.
SALLY.
Dear me ! veil, it's partic'lar strange people gives themselves
sich airs, ,
And troubles themselves so much 'bout other people's affairs ;
For my part, I can't guess, if I died this werry minute,
Vot's the use o' this fuss — I can't see no reason in it.
BETTY.
Missus says as how she's too orrystocratic to mind wulgar people's
tattle,
And looks upon some people as little better nor cattle.
SALLY.
And my missus says no vonder, as yourn can sport sich a dress,
For ven some people's husbands is vite-vashed, their purses ain't
less;

22 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
This I will say, thof she puts herself in wiolent rages,
She's not at all stingy in respect of her sarvant's wages.
BETTY.
Ah ! you've got the luck of it — for my missus is as mean as she's
proud ;
On'y eight pound a-year, and no tea and sugar allowed.
And then there's seven children to do for — two is down with the
measles,
And t'others, poor things ! is half starved, and as thin as
weazles ; —
And then missus sells all the kitchen-stuff! — (you don't know
my trials!)
And takes all the money I get at the rag-shop for the vials !
SALLY.
Veil! I couldn't stand that!— If "I was you, I'd soon give her
warning. BETTY.
She's saved me the trouble, by giving me notice this morning.
But — hush ! I hear master bawling out for- his shaving water —
Jist tell your missus from me, mine's everythink as she thought
her!

Jfow does it fit hi-hind.' dh beautiful fi'e dene wonders well
neic trouble the tatters ao<n/L 1 promise them

EVERY DAY SCENES. 23

SCENE V.
" How does it fit behind ? 0 ! beautiful ; I've done wonders —
we'll never trouble the tailors again, I promise them."
It is the proud boast of some men that they have 'got a
wrinkle.' How elated then ought this individual to be who has
got so many ! and yet, judging from the fretful expression of his
physiognomy, one would suppose that he is by no means in a fit
of good humour.
His industrious rib, however, appears quite delighted with her
handiwork, and in no humour to find the least fault with the
loose habits of her husband. He certainly looks angry, as a man
naturally will when his collar is up.
She, on the other hand, preserves her equanimity in spite of
his unexpected frowns, knowing from experience that those who
sow do not always reap ; and she has reason to be gratified, for
every beholder will agree in her firm opinion, that even that
inimitable ninth of ninths — Stulz, never made such a coat !
In point of economy, we must allow some objections- may be
made to the extravagant waist, while the cuffs she has bestowed.
on him may probably be a fair return (with interest) of buffets
formerly received.
The tail (in two parts) is really as amusing as any tale that
ever emanated from a female hand. There is a moral melancholy
about it that is inexpressibly interesting, like two lovers intended
for each other, and that some untoward circumstance has separ
ated ; they are parted, and yet are still attached, and it is evident
that one seems too long for the other.
The goose generally finishes the labours of the tailor. Now,
some carping critios may be wicked enough to insinuate that
this garb too was finished by a goose ! The worst fate I can

24 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
wish to such malignant scoffers is a complete dressvng from this
worthy dame ; and if she does not make the wisest of them look
ridiculous, then, and not till then, will I abjure my faith in her
art of cutting !
And proud ought that man to be of such a wife ; for never
was mortal ' suited ' so before !

Ca.tclu.nq  a

¦?la\.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 25
SCENE VI.
" Catching — a cold."
What a type of true philosophy and courage is this Wal-
tonian !
Cool and unmoved he receives the sharp blows of the bluster
ing wind — as if he were playing dummy to an experienced
pugilist. Although he -would undoubtedly prefer the blast with the
chill off, he is so warm an enthusiast in the pursuit of his sport,
that he looks with contempt upon the rude and vulgar sport of
the elements. He really angles for love — and love alone— and
limbs and body are literally transformed to a series of angles !
Bent and sharp as his own hook, he watches his smooth float
in the ' rough,' but finds, alas ! that it dances to ' no tune.'
Time and bait are both lost in the vain attempt ; patiently he
rebaits, until he finds the rebait brings his box of gentles to a
discount; and then, in no gentle humour, with a baitless hook,
and abated ardour, he winds up his line and his day's amuse
ment (?)— and departs, with the determination of - trying fortune
(who has tried him) on some future and more propitious day.
Probably on the next occasion he may be gratified with the
sight of, at least, one gudgeon, should the surface of the river
prove * glassy smooth and mirror like ;' — (we are sure his self-
love will not be offended at the reflection !) and .even now he
may, with truth, aver, that although he caught nothing, he, at
least, took the best perch in the undulating stream !

1 1, hi' If rip! fhi mm. nut 0,1,101 is litl/r ri/ltn this is rot noil raits rcuyng
is d." lint if rrrr I pits sari on land again. III nuilcr non rrprnl it ijoii
rasnil III roir 1/011 'dial I rid.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 27

SCENE VII.
" Help ! help ! Oh ! you murderous little villin ! this is vot
you calls rowing, is it?— but if ever I gets safe on land again, Til
malce you repent it, you rascal. I'll row you — that 1 will."
" Mister Vaterman, Vot's your fare for taking me across ?"
" Across, young 'ooman ? vy, you looks so good-tempered, I'll
pull you over for sixpence !"
" Are them seats clean ?"
" 0 ! ker-vite ; I've just swabb'd 'em down."
" And werry comfortable that'll be ! vy, it'll vet my best
silk?" " Vatered silks is all the go. Veil ! veil ! if you don't like it,
there's my jacket. There, sit down a-top of it, and let me put
my arm round you."
" Fellow 1"
" The arm of my jacket I mean ; there's no harm in that, you
know." " Is it quite safe ? How the wind blows !"
"•Lord ! how timorsome you be ! vy, the vind never did
nothin' else since I know'd it" —
" O ! O ! how it tumbles ! dearee me !"
" Sit still ! for ve are just now in the current, and if so be you
go over here, it'll play old gooseberry with you, I tell you."
" Is it werry deep ?"
" Deep as a lawyer."
" 0 ! I really feel all over"—
" And, by Gog, you'll be all over presently — don't lay your
hand on my scull" —
" You villin, I never so much as touched your scull. You put
me up."
4—2

28 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
"I must put you down. I^tell you what it is, young 'ooman,
if you vant to go on, you must sit still ; if you keep moving,
you'll stay where you are — that's all ! There, by 'Gosh ! we're in
for it." At this, point of the interesting dialogue, the young
'ooman gave a sudden lurch to larboard, and turned the boat
completely over. The boatman, blowing like a porpoise, soon
strode across the upturned bark, and turning round, beheld the
drenched " fare " clinging to the stern.
" 0 ! you partic'lar fool !" exclaimed the waterman. " Ay, hold
on a-starn, and the devil take the hindmost, say I."

In- for it
or
'J'ri/iiiiy the J/i,/,/t,

EVERY DAY SCENES. 29
SCENE VIII.
" In for it" or " Trying the middle."
A little fat man,
With rod, basket, and can,
And tackle complete,
Selected a seat
On the branch of a wide-spreading tree,
That stretch'd over a branch of the Lea :
There he silently sat,
Watching his floafi — like a tortoise-shell cat
That had scented a mouse
In the nook of a room in a plentiful house.
But alack !
He hadn't sat long — when a crack
At his back
Made him turn round and pale —
And catch hold of his tail !
But, oh ! 'twas in vain
That he tried to regain
The trunk of the treacherous tree ;
So he,
With a shake of his head
Despairingly said —
" In for it— ecod !"
And away went his rod,
And his best beaver hat,
Untiling his roof !
But he cared not for that,
For it happened to be a superb water-proof

30 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Which not being himself,
The poor elf!
Felt a world of alarm
As the arm
Most gracefully bow'd to the stream,
As if a respect it would show it,
Tho' so much below it !
No presence of mind he dissembled,
But as the branch shook so he trembled,
And the case was no longer a riddle
Or joke,
For the branch snapp'd and broke ;
And altho'
The angler cried — " It's no go !"
He was presently — " trying ihe middle."

Shrrf- tnnut BlU'nwcr muni ///r <>/<{ iroiiuz/i. j/lc cant ,?rt over t/tc
//'//// /o /is. *

EVERY DAY SCENES.

31

SCENE IX.
"Shoot away, Bill ! never mind the old woman —she
can't get over the wall to us."
One day two urchins got.
A pistol, powder, horn, and shot,
And proudly forth they went
On sport intent.
" Oh, Tom ! if we should shoot a hare,"
Cried one,
The elder son,
" How father, sure, would stare !"
" Look there ! what's that ?" .
" Why, as I live, a cat,"
Cried Bill, " 'tis mother Tibbs' tabby ;
Oh ! what a lark :
She loves it like a babby !
And ain't a cat's eye, Tom, as good a mark
As any bull's eyes ?"
And straight " Puss ! puss!" he cries,
When, lo.! as Puss approaches,
They hear a squall,
And see a head and fist above the wall.
'Tis tabby's mistreSs
Who in great distress
Loads both the urchins with her loud reproaches,
" You little villains ! will ye shoot my cat ?
Here, Tink ! Tink ! Tink !
0 ! lor' a' mercy ! I shall surely sink,
Tink ! Tink !"

32 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Tink hears her voice — and hearing that,
Trots nearer with a pit-a-pat
" Now, Bill, present and fire,
There's a bold 'un,
And send the tabby to the old un."
Bang ! went the pistol, and in the mire
Rolled Tink without a mew —
Flop ! fell his mistress in a stew !
While BiU and Tom both fled,
Leaving the accomplish 'd Tink quite finish'd,
For Bill had actually diminish'd
The feline favourite by a head !
Leaving his undone mistress to bewail
In deepest woe,
And to her gossips to relate
Her tabby's fate.
This was her only consolation — for altho'
She could not tell the head — she could the tail !

S</>1 '']*"' An onlii o/ipo/liiadi/
"] litr/t'/Llo Hank 1 nuuj as irrll pu bark.

EVERY-DAY SCENES 33

SCENE X.

September 1st, — An only opportunity.
"I begin to think I may as well go back."
My vig ! vat a pelter this is —
Enough all my hardour to tame ;
In veather like this there's no sport,
. It's too much in earnest for game !
A ladle, I might as well be,
Chain'd fast to a hold parish pump,
For, by goles ! it comes tumbling down
Like vinking, — and all of a lump.
The birds to their nestes is gone,
I can't see no woodcock, nor snipe ;
My dog he looks dogged and dull,
My leggins is flabby as tripe !
The moors is all slipp'ry slush,
I'm. up to the neck in the mire ;
I don't see no chance of a shot,
And I long — how I long for a fire !
For my clothes is all soak'd, and they stick
As close as a bailiff to me ; —
Oh ! I vish I vas out o' this here,
And at home vith my mother at tea !
This is the fust, as I've got
Permission from uncle to shoot ;
He hadn't no peace till he give
This piece, and the powder to boot !

34 Seymour's sketches.
And vat's it all come to at last ? —
There isn't no chance of a hit,
I feel the rain's all down my back,
In my mouth though I hav'n't a bit !
O ! it's werry wexatious indeed !
For I shan't have another day soon ;
But I'm blow'd, if I don't have a pop —
My eye ! I've shot Dash ! vot a spoon !
0 ! here's a partic'lar mess,
Vot vill mother say to me now ?
For he vas her lap-dog and pet,
Oh! I've slaughtered her darling bow-wow !

SRtSS:

«¦ J clmfliil in the, roc of

dirtier sans h.d/rs romes from, liard rrcr,
„ red. herring lost, nrrl, but! dots'ni catch- nrin fuih get

EVERY DAY SCENES. 35

SCENE XL
" Mother says fishes comes from hard roes, so I chuck' d in the roe
of a red-herring last week, but I doesn't catch any fish yet."
How beautiful is the simplicity of unsophisticated youth ! Be
hold with what patience this innocent awaits a bite, trusting with
perfect faith in the truth of his affectionate mother's ichthyologi-
cal knowledge. Wishing to behold a live fish dangling at the end
of his line, he has, with admirable foresight, drawn up the bucket,
that in the ascent the finny prey may not kick it ! It must be a
hard roe indeed, that is not softened by his attentions ; but, alas !
he is doomed never to draw up a vulgar herring, or a well-bred
fish! Folks who are a little deeper read than the boy — (or the her
ring!) — may smile at his fruitless attempt, but how many are
there that act through life upon the same principle, casting their
lines and fishing for — compliments, who never obtain even a
nibble — for why ? their attempts at applause, like his red-herring
are smoked. He does not know that herrings are salt-water fish
— and, in fact, that the well-water is not the ' roes'-water !
But after all, is not such ' ignorance ' bliss ? — for he enjoys the
anticipated pleasure ; and if anticipation be really greater than
reality — what an interminable length will that pleasure be to
him ! Ever and anon he draws up his line, like a militia captain
for a review ; — puts fresh bait on the crooked pin, and lets it
slowly down, and peeps in, wondering what the fish can be at ! —
and is quite as much in the dark as his float. But he may at last,
perhaps, discover that he is not so deep as a well — and wisely
6—2

36 Seymour's sketches.
resolve to let well — alone ; two points which may probably be of
infinite importance to him through life, and enable him to turn
the laugh against those who now mock his ignorance and sim
plicity.

AMBITION

EVERY DAY SCENES. 37

SCENE XII.
AMBITION.
" He was ambitious, and I slew him."
What carried Captain Ross to the North Pole ? "A ship to be
sure ;" exclaims some matter-of-fact gentleman. Reader ! it was
Ambition !
What made barber Ross survey the poll, make wiggs, and
puff away even when powder was exploded ? What caused him
to seek the applause of the 'nobs' among the cockneys, and
struggle to obtain the paradoxical triplicate dictum that he was
' a werry first-rate cutter !' What made him a practical Tory ?
(for he boasts of 'turning out' the best 'wigs' in the country ?)
— Ambition !
What induces men to turn theatrical managers when a 'beg
garly account of empty boxes ' nightly proves the Drama is at a
discount — all 'benefits' visionary, and the price of admission
is regarded as a tax, and the performers as ex-actors ! ? — when
they get scarcely enough to pay for lights, and yet ' burn their
fingers ?' — Ambition !
The candidate for the county cringes and flatters the greasy
unwashed ten-pounders, in order to get at the head of the poll —
so likewise the bumpkin (in imitation of his superior) rubs his
hand in the dirt to enable him to cling fast, and reach the top of
the soap'd poll, whereon the tempting prize is displayed. And
what prompts them both to the contest ? — Ambition !
What is the ' primum mobile ' of the adventurous Aeronaut,
Mr. Green, one of the most rising men of the day, who aspires
even unto the very clouds, and in his elevation looks upon all
men of woman born as far beneath him ?— Ambition !

38 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
What prompts the soldier who ' spends half-a-crown out of
sixpence a-day ' to thrust his head into the cannon's mouth, to
convince the world that he is desirous of obtaining a good
' report! and that he is fearless of the charge ? — Ambition !
What makes the beardless school-boy leap ditches and ' over '
posts at the risk of his neck, and boast that he'll do another's
' dags ' — or the sporting man turn good horses into filthy dog's-
meat, in riding so many miles in so many minutes ? — Ambition !
What magic influence operates upon the senses of the bar
rister (a scholar and a gentleman) to exert his winning eloquence
and ingenuity in the cause of a client, who, in his conscience, he
knows to be both morally and legally unworthy of the luminous
defence put forth to prove the trembling culprit more sinned
against than sinning ? — Ambition !
What urges the vulgar costermonger to bestride his long-ear'd
Arabian, and belabor his panting sides with merciless stick and
iron-shod heels to impel him to the goal in the mimic race — or
the sleek and polish'd courtier to lick the dust of his superiors'
feet to obtain a paltry riband or a star ? — Ambition !

Better liocJc tz&x-t tirrve.

EVERY DAY SCENES 39

SCENE XIII.
BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME.
The lamentation of Joe Griskin.
" 0 ! Molly ! Molly ! ven I popp'd my chops through the arey
railings, and seed you smile, I thought you vos mine for ever !
I wentur'd all for you — all — . It warn't no great stake p'r'aps,
but it was a tender vun ! I offered you a heart werbally, and
you said 'No!' I writ this ere wollentine, and you returns it
vith a big 'No!'
" 0 ! Molly, your ' No's ' is more piercinger and crueller than
your heyes. Me ! to be used so : — Me ! as refused the vidder
at the Coal Shed ! (to be sure she wore a vig and I didn't vant a
bald rib .') Me !— but it's o' no use talking ; von may as veil,
make love to a lamp-post, and expect to feed von's flame vith
lights ! But adoo to life ; this 'ere rope, fixed round the ' best
end o' the neck ' will soon ' scrag ' me, and ven I'm as dead as
mutton, p'r'aps you may be werry sorry.
" It'll be too late then, Molly, ven you've led me to the halter
to vish as you'd married me."
After this bitter bust of wounded feeling, and, urged by the
rejection of his addresses, the love-lorn Butcher mounted a
joint-stool, and stepping on a fence, twisted the awful rope
round the branch of a tree, and then, coiling it about his neck,
determined that this day should be a 'killing day;' vainly
supposing, in the disordered state of his mind, that the flinty-
hearted Molly would probably esteem her ' dear ' (like venison)
the better for being hung ! Mystically muttering ' adoo !' three
times, in the most pathetic tone, he swung off— and in an
instant came to his latter end — for the rope snapp'd in twain,

40 Seymour's sketches.
and he found himself seated on the turf below, when he vainly
imagmed he was preparing himself for being placed below the
turf! "Nothin' but disappointments in this world;" exclaimed he,
really feeling hurt by the unexpected fall, for he had grazed his
calves in the meadow, and was wofully vexed at finding himself a
lover ' turn off ' and yet ' unhung.'
Cast down and melancholy, he retraced his steps, and seizing
a cleaver (dreadful weapon !) vented his suicidal humour in
chopping, with malignant fury, at his own block !

¦y -"-¦ i/aiue.fmrf •¦ ¦ft&ldtl1ni J'um

Jk?nJt t/cu b& s/zitcy, Bm/s.

every day scenes. 41

SCENE XIV.

Don't you be saucy, Boys.
" What are you grinning at, boys ?" angrily demanded an old
gentleman, seated beside a meandering stream, of two school
boys, who were watching him from behind a high paling at his
rear. — "Don't you know a little makes fools laugh."
"Yes, sir! that's quite true, for we were laughing at what
you've caught !"
¦ « Umph ! I tell you what, my lads, if I knew your master, I'd
pull you up, and have you well dressed."
"Tell that to the fishes," replied the elder, " when you do get
a bite !"
"You saucy jackanapes! how dare you speak to me in this
manner ?"
" Pray, sir, are you lord of the manor ? I'm sure you spoke to
us first," said the younger.
" More than that," continued his companion. " We are above
speaking to you, for you are beneath us !"
The old gentleman, rather nettled at the 'glibness' of the
lads, stuck a hook vengefuUy into an inoffensive worm, and threw
his Hne.
The boys still retained their post, and after many whispered
remarks and tittering, the younger thrust his handkerchief into
his mouth to smother a burst of irrepressible laughter, while the
other, assuming a modest and penitent air, said :
" I beg your pardon, sir."
"What ?" demanded the old gentleman, sharply.
" Hope you are not offended, sir ?"
" Get along with you," replied the unfortunate angler, irritated
at his want of success.
" I can tell you something, sir," continued the lad ; — " there's no
fish to be had where you are. I know the river well. Father's
very fond o' fish ; he always brings home plenty. If you like,
sir, I can show you the place." 6

42 Seymour's sketches.
Here his companion rolled upon the grass and kicked, perfectly
convulsed with laughter, luckily hidden from the view of the
now mollified old gentleman.
" Indeed !" cried the angler : "is it far from this ?"
" Not a quarter of a mile," replied the boy.
" That is nothing. I've walked eighteen this morning," said
the old gentleman,' packing up his apparatus. " I'll go with
you directly, and thank you too, for I'm a perfect stranger in
these parts."
When he had joined them, the laughing fits of the younger had
subsided, although he chose to fall in the rear. "Now, to show
you how much more profitable it is to respect than to mock at
your superiors in years, there's a (let me see) — there's a half
penny for you to purchase cakes."
" Thank ye, sir," said he, and turning to his companion with a
wink : " Here, Bill, run to Cummins' and buy a ha'p'orth of
eights — we'll make the most of it — and I'll come to you as soon
as I've shown the gentleman the fish."
" Show me the place, and I'll find the fish," said the anticipat
ing angler.
On they trudged.
" Must we go through the town ?" asked his companion, as he
marched with his long rod in one hand and his can in the other.
" Yes, sir, it ain't far ;" and he walked on at a quicker pace,
while all the crowd of rustics gazed at the extraordinary appear
ance of the armed Waltonian, for it happened to be market-day.
After parading him in this fashion nearly through the town, he
presently twitched him by his coat-sleeve.
" Look there, sir ! " cried he, pointing to a well-stocked fish
monger's. "Beautiful! — what a quantity!" exclaimed the venerable
piscator. " I thought you'd like it, sir— that's the place for fish, sir, —
good morning."
" Eh ! what — you young dog ?"
" That's where father gets all his, I assure you, sir, — good
morning," said the youth, and making a mock reverence, bounded
off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Vy, Sartilrytmr drunk.' I'm efuite asfianfd ' o'you.
Veil, vot's the odds, as Long asymi'r happy?

every day scenes. 43

SCENE XV.

" Vy, Sarah, you're drunk! I am quite ashamed o' you."
" Veil, vots the odds as longr as you're happy !
Jack was an itinerant vender of greens, and his spouse was a
peripatetic distributor of the 'finny tribe,' (sprats, herrings or
mackerel, according to the season,) and both picked up a toler
able livelihood by their respective ' callings'
Like the lettuces he sold, Jack had a good lieart, and his
attention wa3 first attracted to the subsequent object of his
election by the wit of a passing boy, who asked the damsel how
she sold her carrots ? Jack's eyes were in an instant turned to
wards one whom he considered a competitor in the trade — when
he beheld the physiognomy of his Sarah beaming with smiles
beneath an abundant crop of sunny hair ! —
"You are a beauty, and no mistake," exclaimed the green-
'grocer, in admiration,
" Flummery ! " replied the damsel — the deep blush of modesty
mantling her cheeks. Jack rested his basket on a post beside
her stall, and drank deep draughts of love, while Sarah's delicate
fingers were skilfully employed in ' undressing' a pound of wrig
gling eels for a customer.
" Them's rig'lar voppers ! " remarked Jack.
"Three to a pound," answered Sarah, and so they slipped
naturally into discourse upon trade, its prospects and profits,
and gradually a hint of partnership was thrown out.
Sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set
of teeth that rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness — a month
afterwards they became man and wife. For some years they
toiled on together — he, like a caterpillar, getting a living out of
cabbages, and she, like an undertaker, out of departed soles !
5—2

44 Seymour's sketches.
Latterly, however, Jack discovered that his spouse was rather
addicted to ' summut short,' in fact, that she drank like a fish,
although the beverage she affected was a leetle stronger than
water. Their profit (unlike Mahomet) permitted them the same
baneful indulgence — and kept them both in spirits !
Their trade, however, fell off — for they were often unable to
carry their baskets.
The last time we beheld them, Sarah was sitting in the cooling
current of a gutter, with her heels upon the curb (alas ! how
much did she need a curb !) while Jack, having disposed of his
basket, had obtained a post in a public situation, was holding
forth on the impropriety of her conduct.
" How can you let yourself down so ? " said he, — " You're
drunk— drunk, Sarah, drunk ! "
" On'y a little elevated, Jack."
" Elevated ! — floor'd you mean."
" Veil ; vot's the odds as long as you're happy ?" ,
Jack, finding all remonstrance was vain, brought himself up,
and reeling forward, went as straight home — as he could, leaving
his spouse (like many a deserted wife) soaking her clay, because
he refused to support her !

fa iris nrnrron I'm noinp irrriuj ' and pot to n'oVo aU
that irrin 'laolc aaaui

every day scenes. 45

SCENE XVI.
" Lawk a' -mercy ! I'm going wrong ! and got to walk all that
way back again."
A pedestrian may get robbed of his money on the highway,
but a cross road frequently robs him of time and patience ; fo,r
when haply he considers himself at his 'journey's end, an imper
tinent finger-post, offering him the tardy and unpleasant infor
mation that he has wandered from his track, makes him ' turn
about and wheel about,' like Jim Crow, in anything but a
pleasant humour.^
It were well if every wayfarer were like the sailor, who when
offered a quid from the 'bacco box of a smoker, said, ' I never
chews the short-cut ! ' and in the same spirit we strongly advise
him, before he takes the short-cut, to think of the returns !
Should the weather prove rainy, the hungry traveller may
certainly get a ' wet' on the road, although he starves before he
reaches the wished-for inn.
As there is likewise no more chance of meeting a good
tempered guide on a cross-road, than of finding eggs and bacon
in an edible state, at least on a common — and, as he can no more
pull in the summer-rains than he can the reins of a runaway
stallion, — the result is, the inexperienced youth ludicrously repre
sents so many pounds of ' dripping,' and although he may be
thirsty, he will have no cause to complain that he is — dry ! —
The best mode for an honest man to go round the country, is to
take a straightforward course, especially when the surcharged
clouds do 'rule the horizon with sloping lines' of rain! Besides,
it is by no means a pleasant thing for a man with a scanty ward
robe, to find his clothes ' running away ' at a most unpleasant

46 Seymour's sketches.
rate, while he can scarcely drag one clay-encumbered leg after
the other.
It is a difficult trial, too, of a man's philosophy, after trudging
over a long field, to be encountered by. the mockery of a ' ha ! ha !'
— fence ! he utters a few bitter expletives, perhaps, but nought
avails his railing against such a fence as that !
The shower which makes all Nature smile, only causes him to
laugh — ' on the wrong side of his mouth,' for he regards it as a
temperance man does a ' regular soaker !'
Reader ! never attempt a bye- way on a wet day with a stick
and bundle at your back — (if you have a waterproof trunk, you
may indeed weather it) — but ' go a-head ' on the turnpike road
— the way of' all mails — leaving long and short commons to the
goose and donkey — and the probability is, that you may not only
' make a sign ' before you die, but get a feed — and a shelter.

25

J"t dciird ipj,.

'"" ''-rr 7Ut\

EVERY DAY SCENES.

SCENE XYIL

" -Tm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em"
It is a most extraordinary thing, 'pon my veracity : I go out as
regularly as the year, and yet I never bring down an individual
bird. I have one of the best Mantons going — with such a bore : —
and then I use the best shot — but not being the best shot in the
world myself, I suppose is the identical reason why I never hit
any thing. I think it must arise from a natural defect in my
sight ; for when I suppose a covey as near — as my miser of an
uncle — they are probably as distant, — as my ninety-ninth cousin '¦
Such a rum go ! — the other day I had a troop of fellows at my
heels, laughing like mad ; and what do you think ? — when I
doffed my shooting-jacket, I found some wag had stack the top
of a printed placard on my back, with the horrid words, "A
young gentleman missimg ! "
It was only last week, a whole flight of sparrows rose at my
very feet — I fired— bang !— no go '—but I heard a squall; and
elevating my glass, lo ! I beheld a cottage within a few yards of
my muzzle;— the vulgar peasant took the trouble to leap his
fence, and inform me I had broken his windows — of course I was
compelled to pay him for his panes !
To be sure he did rather indicate a disposition to take away
my gun— which I certainly should never have relinquished with
out a struggle— and so I forked out the 'dibs/ in order to <kwp
the piece !' I'm quite positive, however, that the vagabond wer-

48 Seymour's sketches.
charged me, and I kicked, as was quite natural, you know, under
such circumstances !
I really have an imperfect notion of disposing of my shooting-
tackle — but Cm such an unfortunate devil, that I really beheve
when I post 'em up for sale — my gun will not go off! —
dem me !

26

- ,»$ii\2'\

Jfavo ymi read the Leader in this pamper, MT Brisk-edr.
A',' / I rev or tourdi ,i iiinvspa/icT. they arc ad I so worry
won 11/ ,md nm'd 0/ sontiin enhtr.

EVERY day scenes. 49

SCENE XVIII.
" Have you read the leader in this paper, Mr. Brisket ? "
" No ! I never touch a newspaper ; they are all so werry
ivenal and woid of sentiment ! "
bob.
0 ! here's a harticle agin the fools,
Vich our poor British Nation so misrules :
And don't they show 'em up with all their tricks —
By gosh ! I think they'd better ' cut their sticks ;'
They never can surwive such cuts as these is !
BRISKET.
It's werry well ; but me it never pleases ;
I never reads thenews, and sees no merit
In anythink as breathes a party sperrit.
BOB.
Ain't you a hinglishman ? and yet not feel
A hint'rest, Brisket, in the common-weal ?
BRISKET.
The common- weal be — anythink for me,
There ain't no sentiment as I can see
In all the stuff these sons of — Britain prate —
They talk too much and do too little for the state.
BOB.
0 ! Brisket, I'm afeard as you're a ' Rad ? '
BRISKET.
No, honour bright ! for sin' I was a lad

50 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
I've stuck thro' thick and thin to Peel, or
Vellington — for Tories is genteeler ;
But I'm no politician. No ! I read
These ' Tales of Love' vich tells of hearts as bleed,
And moonlight meetins in the field and grove,
And cross-grain'd pa's and wictims of true love ;
Wirgins in white a-leaping out o' winders —
Vot some old codger cotches, and so hinders —
From j'ining her true-love to tie the knot,
Who broken-hearted dies upon the spot !
BOB.
That's werry fine ! — but give me politics —
There's summat stirring even in the tricks
Of them vots in to keep the t'others out, —
How I sliould like to hear the fellers spout !
For some on 'em have sich a lot o' 'cheek,'
If they war'n't stopped they'd ' go it ' for a week.
BRISKET.
But they're so wulgar, Bob, and call sich names
As quite the tag-rag of St. Giles' shames :
The 'press' too is so wenal, that they think
All party h errors for the sake o' chink.
BOB.
But ain't there no false lovers in them tales,
Vot hover wirgin hinnocence perwails ?
BRISKET.
Vy, yes, but ' in the end ' the ' right one's ' married,
And after much ' to do ' the point is carried :
So give me love sincere and tender,
And all the rest's not worth a ' bender.'

27

To.yourr lemtasyonr.i/an.yon nury as roll lend us y mir
v„t,.h.Ictm-'t slwot any thnu, for- yom till I sees vot's oilorh

EVERY DAY SCENES.

SCENE XIX.

51

An Epistle from Samuel Softly, Esq., to his Friend, Rwhard
Gubbins, Esq., of Tooley Street.
0 ! Dick !
Sich a misfortin' has you never heard on as come npon your
friend. I'll jist give you a breef houtline of the circumitantials
as near as my flurry vill let me. T'other momin" I vips up my
gun for to go a-shootin', and packin' up my hammunition and
some sanwidges, I bids ' adoo to this wile smoky town,' with the
intention of getian' a little hair. Yell ] on I goes a-visshm and
tlunkin' on nothin', and happy as the bumble-bees as vos
a-numming around me. Veil ! a'ter an hour or more's Talking,
not an house nor a brick vos wisible.
Natur', in all her werdur, vos smilin' Hke a fat l&Vby in its
maternal harms ! But, as somebody has it —
" Man never ain't, but aPays to be Lisas' d,'
and I'm biess'd if that ain't true, too, as you shall see presently.
Veil ! I pops at von bird and then at another ; but Tether the
poor creturs vos unaecustom'd to guns, and so vos frighten'd, I
don't know, but somehow I couldn't hit 'em no-how.
Veil ! and so I vos jist a — chargin' agin ven a great he-fedow,
in a ruff coat and partic'lar large viskers, aoeostes me (ciwifly I
must say, but rayther familler) —
" Birds shy ?" says he.
" Werry ; — ain't hit nothin',:' says L
"I'll tell you vot it is, young gentleman," says he "it's the
unevenness o' the ground !"
" D'ye think so ?" says I.
" Sure on it," says he " I'm a hold sojer ! Know this 'ere
place, and have picked up many a good dinner in it. Look at
7—2

52 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
them fe'l'fares yonder," says he, " on'y let me have a slap at 'em
for you, and see if I don't finish some on 'em in the twinkling of
a pig's visper."
In course I felt obleeged by sich a hoffer, and hands him the
gun. Veil ! I vos a-follerin' him quite pleased, ven he visks
round, and puttin' the muzzle o' the hinstrument jist agin my
vescoat, says he, " Now you've lent us your gun, you may as veil
lend us your votch. I can't shoot any think for you till I sees
vot's o'clock !"
Here vas a go ! — but I see vot vas a clock in a hinstant — and
no mistake. So I cotch'd hold on the two butiful chased seals
and tugs it out.
" That's the time o' day !" says he, a-cockin' his hugly heye
at the dial ; " and now," says he, " as you seems frightened at
the gun, I shall jist put it out of harm's way."
And with that he chucks it 'splash' into a duGk-pond, and
hofF marches my ' hold sojer ' in a jiffy ! I vos putrified ! and
fell to a-blubberin' like a hinfant.
0 ! Dick, vot's to be done ?
You know / ham, at any rate, Yours truly,
S. Softly.

JUT Vu/e/ins, do you ta7ce siu/ar '
le.i mi/ /irzdne/cl.J lores a/Z- irot's sirrot

EVERY DAY SCENES. 53

SCENE XX.

The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins.
Among the very few ' fashionable ' foibles to which Mr. Wiggins
was addicted, was the smoking of cigars. Attracted by the ap
pearance of a small box marked ' Marylands — one penny each'
very much resembling lettuce-leaves with the yellow jaundice, he
walked into the chandler's shop where they were displayed.
" Let us look at them cigars," said he, and then, for the first
time glancing at the smart good-looking mistress of the empo
rium, he added, " if you please, ma'am — "
" Certain'y sir."
A pretty little fist, that howsomever ! thought Wiggins, as she
placed the box before him.
"Vill you have a light?"
" Thank'ye ma'am," said he, ramming the cigar into his mouth,
rs if he really intended to ' bolt it.'
She twisted a slip of ' waste,' and lighting it, presented it to
her admiring customer, for it was evident, from the rapt manner
in which he scanned her, that he was deeply smitten by her per
sonal appearance.
She coloured, coughed delicately, as the smoke tickled the
tonsils of her throat, and looked full at the youth. ' Such a
look ! ' as Wiggins asserted. " I'm afeared as the smoke is
disagreeable," said he.
" Oh ! dear no, not at all, I assure you ; I likes it of all things.
I can't abide a pipe no-how, but I've quite a prevalence (predilec
tion?) forsiggers." So Wiggins puffed and chatted away; and
at last, delighted with the sprightly conversation of the lady,
seated himself on the small-beer barrel, and so far forgot his
economy in the fascination of his entertainer, that he purchased
a second. At this favourable juncture, Mrs. Warner, (for she was
a widow acknowledging five-and-twenty) ordered the grinnino-
shop-boy, who was chopping the 'lump,' to take home 'them
'ere dips ' to a customer who lived at some distance. Wia-a-ms,

54 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
not aware of the ruse, felt pleased with the absence of one who
was certainly de trop in the engrossing Ute-a-tete. We will pass
over this preliminary conversation : for a whole week the same
scene was renewed, and at last Mrs. Warner and Mr. Wiggins
used to shake hands, at parting.
" Do you hever go out ? " said Wiggins.
" Sildom — werry sildom," replied the widow.
" Vos you never at the Vite Cundic, or the hEagle, or any of
them places on a Sunday ? "
" How can I go," replied the widow, sighing, " vithout a pur-
tector?" Hereupon the enamoured Wiggins said, " How happy he should
be," &c. and the widow said, " She was sure for her part," &c.
and so the affair was settled. On the following Sunday the
gallant Mr. Wiggins, ' figged out ' in his best, escorted the de
lighted and delightful Mrs. Warner to that place of ' fashionable
resort,' the White Conduit, and did the thing so handsomely,
that the lady was quite charmed. Seated in one of the snug
arbours of that suburban establishment, she poured out the hot
tea, and the swain the most burning vows of attachment. " Mr.
Viggins, do you take sugar ? " demanded the fair widow. " Yes,
my haingel," answered he, emphatically. " I loves all wot's
sweet," and then he gave her such a tender squeeze ! "Done —
do — you naughty man ! " cried she, tapping him on the knuckles
with the plated sugar-tongs, and then cast down her eyes with
such a roguish modesty, that he repeated the operation for the
sake of that ' ravishing expression.' — Pointing his knife at a pat
of butter, he poetically exclaimed, " My heart is jist like that —
and you have made a himpression on it as time will never put
out ! " "I didn't think as you were quite so soft neither," said
the widow. " I ham," replied the suitor — " and there," continued
he, cutting a hot roll, and introducing the pat, " I melts as easily
afore the glance of your beautiful heyes ! " Resolved to carry on
the campaign with spirit, he called for two glasses of brandy and
water, stiff, and three cigars ! And now, becoming sentimental
and communicative, he declared, with his hand upon his heart,
that " hif there vos a single thing in life as would make him
completely happy, it vos a vife !"

Iiidrnl, IP" Vltitn't/s . I vant

valk vith you, your quite, r le waled.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 55

SCENE XXI.
The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins.
Mr. Wiggins was so intoxicated with love, brandy-and-water
and cigars, that he scarcely knew how he reached home. He
only remembered that he was very dizzy, and that his charming
widow — his guide and friend — had remonstrated with him upon
the elevation of his style, and the irregularity of his progression.
With his head in his hand, and a strong " dish of tea " with
out milk, before him, he was com,posing himself for business the
following morning, when an unexpected visitor was announced.
"Please, sir, there's Mrs. Warner's boy as vants to speak vith
you," said his landlady.
"Show him up," languidly replied our lover, throwing his
aching head from his right to his left hand.
"Veil, Jim, -vot's the matter!" demanded he — "How's your
missus ?"
" She ain't no missus o' mine no longer," replied Jim.
"How?"
" I tell you vot it is, sir, she promised to give me a shillin'-a-
veek an' my feed ; an' she ain't done vun thing nor t'other ; for
I'm bless'd if I ain't starved, and ain't seen the color of her
money sin' I bin there. Father's goin' to summon her."
"It's some mistake, sure ?"
"It's no mistake tho'," persisted Jim; "an' I can tell you she
ain't got a farden to bless herself vith ! an' she's over head-and-
ears in debt too, I can tell you ; an' she pays nobody — puttin' 'em
all off vith promises to pay ven she's married."
" My heye !" exclaimed the excited Wiggins thrown all a-back
by this very agreeable intention upon his funds.

56 Seymour's sketches.
" More nor that, sir," continued the revengeful Jim ; " I know
she thinks as she's hooked a preshus flat, an' means to marry
you outright jist for vot she can get. An' von't she scatter the
'dibs?' that's all; she's the extravagantest 'ooman as hever I
came anigh to."
" But, (dear me !) she has a good stock — ? "
" Dummies, sir, all dummies."
"Dummies?"
" Yes, sir ; the sugars on the shelves is all dummies— wooden
'uns, done up in paper ! The herrin' tub is on'y got a few at
top — the rest's all shavins an' 'waste.' — There's plenty o' salt to
be sure — but the werry soap-box is all made up."
"And so's my mind!" emphatically exclaimed the deluded
Wiggins, slapping the breakfast-table with his clenched fist.
" Jim — Jim — you're a honest lad, and there's half-a-crown for
you—" "Thank'ye for me, sir," said the errand-boy, grinning with
delight — " and — and you'll cut the missus, sir !"
" For ever !— "
"Hooray! I said as how I'd have my rewenge!" cried the
lad, and, pulling the front of his straight hair as an apology for a
bow, he retreated from the room.
" What an escape !" soliloquised Wiggins — "Shouldn't I ha' bin
properly hampered ? that's all. No more insinniwating widows
for me ! — "
And so ended the Courtship of Mr. Wiggins.

30

"'/In-re's thrrrprnro h-r voir arid ,Uis/or uisho., rond iitnre oil.'
'¦Three,, euro. ,,,,/eed." t,,,-, ,-, ,,,,,,-r.t „„ „„,/,.,- .r,.ty/,.„,.,. ,_ ,/-,,,. ,/,/„/,
/ dors i, 'I hn„u- the i,;t//,T o'/,earr „i,,/ quietness:"

EVERY DAY SCENES. 57

SCENE XXII
The Itinerant Musician.
A WANDERING son of Apollo, with a shocking bad hat, encircled
by a melancholy piece of rusty crape, and arrayed in garments
that had once shone with renovated splendour in that mart of
second-hand habiliments ycleped Monmouth-street, was affright
ing the echoes of a fashionable street by blowing upon an old
clarionet, and doing the ' Follow, hark !' of Weber the most pal
pable injustice.
The red hand of the greasy cook tapped at the kitchen-win
dow below, and she scolded inaudibly— but he still continued to
amuse — himself, as regardless of the cook's scolding as of the
a,rea,-railing against which he leaned, tuning his discordant lay.
His strain indeed appeared endless, and he still persevered in
torturing the 'ambient air,' with, apparently, as little prospect of
' blowing himself out ' as an asthmatic man would possibly have
of extinguishing a smoky, link with a ' wheeze ' — or a hungry
cadger without a penny ! 
The master of the mansion was suffering under a ' touch ' of
the gout, accompanied by a gnawing tooth-ache !— The horrid
noise without made his trembling nerves jangle like -the loose
strings of an untuned guitar.
A furious tug at the bell brought down the silken rope and
brought up an orbicular footman.
"William"—
"Yes, sir."
"D— that, &c. ! and send him to, &c. !"
"Yes, sir."
And away glided the liveried rotundity. —

58 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Appearing at the street-door, the musician took his instrument
from his lips, and, approaching the steps, touched his sorry beaver
with the side of his left hand.
" There's three-pence for you," said the menial, " and master
wishes you'd move on."
" Three-pence, indeed !" mumbled the man. " I never moves
on under sixpence : d'ye think I doesn't know the walley o' peace
and quietness ?"
"Fellow!" cried the irate footman, with a pompous air —
" Master desires as you'll go on."
" Werry well " — replied the other, touching his hat, while the
domestic waddled back, and closed the door, pluming himself
upon having ' settled' the musician ; but he had no sooner van
ished, than the strain was taken up again more uproariously than
ever. Out he rushed again in a twinkling —
" Fellow ! I say — man ! vot do you mean ? "
" Vy, now didn't you tell me to go on ?"
"I mean't go off."
" Then vy don't you speak plain hinglish," said the clarionist ;
" but, I say, lug out t'other browns, or I shall say vot the flute
said ven his master said as how he'd play a tune on him."
"Vot vos that?"
" Vy, he'd be ' blow'd if he would !' "
" You're a owdacious fellow."
" Tip 1 " was the laconic answer, accompanied by an expressive
twiddling of the fingers.
" Veil, there then," answered the footman, reluctantly giving
him the price of his silence.
" Thank'ye," said the musician, " and in time to come, old fel
low, never do nothin' by halves — 'cept it's a calf's head ! "

al

Oh lor! herds a nvrrid- Ilium.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 59
SCENE XXIIL
" Oh ! Ioq-, here's a norrid thing."
The Confessions of a Sportsman.
" Vell, for three years, as sure as the September comes, I takes
the field, but somehow or another I never takes nothin' else !
My gun's a good 'un and no mistake ! — Percussions and the best
Dartford, and all that too. My haim ain't amiss neither; so
there's a fault somewhere, that's certain. The first time as I
hentered on the inwigorating and manly sport, I yalks my werry
legs off, and sees nothin' but crows and that 'ere sort o' small

" I vos so aggrawated, that at last I let's fly at 'em. in werry
spite, jist as they vos a sendin' of their bills into an orse for a
dinner. "Bang! goes the piece; — caw! caw! goes the birds; and I
dessay I did for some on 'em, but, I don't know, for somehow
I vos in sich a preshus hurry to bag my game, that I jumps clean
over vun bank, and by goles ! plump into a ditch on t'other side,
up to my werry neck !
" The mud stuck to me like vax ; and findin' it all over vith
me, and no chance o' breaking a cover o' this sort, I dawdled
about 'till dust, and vos werry glad to crawl home and jump into
bed. I vos so ' put out ' that I stayed at home the rest o' that
season. " The second year come, and my hardor vos agin inflamed. —
' Cotch me a-shootin' at crows,' says I. — Vell, avay I goes
a-vhistling to myself, ven presently I see a solentaiy bird on the
win ; — ' a partridge, by jingo ! ' says I. — I cocks — presents, and
hits it ! Hooray ! down it tumbles, and afore I could load and
8—2

60 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
prime agin, a whole lot o' 'em comes out from among the trees.
' Here's luck ! ' says I ; and jist shouldered my piece, ven I gets
sich a vop behind me as sent me at full length.
" Vot's that for ?" says I.
" Vot are you. a shootin' at my pigeons for ? " says a great
hulking, farmering-looking fellow.
" A hexplanation follered ; and in course I paid the damage,
vich stood me a matter of a suv'rin, for he said he'd take his
davy as how it vos a waluable tumbler ! — I never sees a ' go ' o'
rum and vater but vot I thinks on it. This vos a sickener.
" The third year I vos hout agin as fresh as a daisy, ven I
made a haim at a sparrer, or a lark, or summit o' that kind —
hit it, in course, and vos on the p!int o' going for'ard, ven lo ! on
turning my wision atop o' the bank afore me, I seed, a norrid
thing ! — a serpent, or a rattle-snake, or somethink a-curling itself
up and hissing like fun !
" I trembled like a haspen-leaf, and — didn't I bolt as fast as
my werry legs would carry me, that's all ?
" Since that time I may say, with the chap in the stage-play,
that my parent ' has kept myself, his only son, at home,' for I
see no sport in sich rigs, and prefer a little pea.ce at home to the
best gun in the field ! " —

31

WeU, JBUl. d'ye gut array sites over thxre-.-
Jib. out I'm, arfe-araZ, I slictU, soon, ha,v& one.

EVERY DAY SCENES.

SCENE XXIV.

61

" Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites over there 1"
" No, but Fm afeard I shall soon have one."
Two youths, by favour of their sponsors bearing the aristocratic
names of William and Joseph, started early one morning duly
equipped, on piscatorial sport intent. They trudged gaily for
ward towards a neighbouring river, looking right and left and
around them, as sharp as two crows that have scented afar off the
carcase of a defunct nag.
At length they arrived at a lofty wall, on the wrong side of
which musically meandered the stream they sought. After a
deliberate consultation, the valiant William resolved to scale the
impediment, and cast the fine. Joseph prudently remained on
the other side ready to catch the fish — his companon should throw
to him ! Presently an exclamation of "Oh ! my !" attracted his
attention. " Have you got a bite ? " eagerly demanded Joe.
" No ! by gosh ! but I think I shall soon ! " cried Bill.
Hereupon the expectant Joseph mounted, and seating himself
' upon the wall, beheld to his horror, Master Bill keeping a fierce
bull-dog at bay with the butt end of his fishing-rod.
" Go it, Bill !" exclaimed Joe, " pitch into him and scramble up."
The dog ran at him. — Joe in his agitation fell from his position,
while Bill threw his rod at the beast, made a desperate leap, and
clutched the top of the wall with his hands.
" Egad ! I've lost my seat," cried Joe, rolling upon the grass.
"And so have I !" roared Bill, scrambling in affright over the
wall. And true it was, that he who had not got a bite before, had
got a bite — behind !

62 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Bill anathematized the dog, but the ludicrous bereavement he
had sustained made him laugh, in spite of his teeth !
Joe joined in his merriment.
" What a burning shame it is ? " said he ; " truly there ought
to be breaches ready made in these walls, Bill, that one might
escape, if not repair these damages."
" No matter," replied Bill, shaking his head, " I know the
owner — he's a Member of Parliament. Stop till the next election,
that's all."
" Why, what has that to do with it ? " demanded Joe.
"Do with it," said Bill, emphatically, "why, I'll canvass for
the opposite party, to be sure ? "
"And what then?"
" Then I shall have the pleasure of serving him as his dog has
served me. Yes! Joe, the M.P. will lose his seat to a dead
certainty ! "

33

lr!uj is u, werry lerLfti. spot, sir I wonder urn jrrnt afcard of~
~b crtryj rob 'SI.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 63

SCENE XXV.

" This is a werry lonely spot, Sir; I wonder you arn't afeared
of being robbed."
Job Timmins was a tailor bold,
And well he knew his trade,
And though he was no fighting man
Had often dress'd a blade !
Quoth he one day—" I have not had
A holiday for years^
So I'm resolved to go and fish,
And cut for once the shears."
So donning quick his Sunday's suit,
He took both rod and line,
And bait for fish — -and prog for one,
And eke. a flask of wine.
For he was one who loved to live,
And said—-" Where'er I roam
I like to feed — and though abroad
To make myself at home."
. Beneath a shady grove of trees
He sat him down to fish,
And having got a cover, he
Long'd much to get a dish.
He cast his line, and watch'd his float,
Slow gliding down the tide ;
He saw it sink ! he drew it up,
And lo ! a fish he spied.
He took the struggling gudgeon off,
And cried—" I likes his looks,
I wish he'd live— but fishes die
Soon as they're— off the hooks 1"

64 Seymour's sketches.
At last a dozen more he drew —
(Fine drawing 'twas to him !
But day past by — and twilight came,
All objects soon grew dim.
" One more !" he cried, " and then I'll pack,
And homeward trot to sup," —
But as he spoke, he heard a tread,
Which caused him to look up.
Poor Timmins trembled as he gazed
Upon the stranger's face ;
For cut purse ! robber ! all too plain,
His eye could therein trace.
" Them's werry handsome boots o' yourn,"
The ruffian smiling cried,
" Jist draw your trotters out — my pal —
And we'll swop tiles, besides.
" That coat too, is a pretty fit —
Don't tremble so — for I
Von't rob you of a single fish,
I've other fish to fry."
Poor Timmins was obliged to yield
Hat, coat, and boots — in short
He was completely stripp'd — and paid
Most dearly for his " sport."
And as he homeward went, he sigh'd —
" Farewell to stream and brook ;
0 ! yes, they'll catch me there again
A fishing with a hook !"

I sen ¦ Jack are there any fish in this pond!0
There may he, hut I should think they were werry small, cause
there vos va? voter in, this here pond, afore that there rain yesterday.

EVERY DAY SCENES. 65
SCENE XXVI.
Old Foozle.
There is a certain period of life beyond which the plastic mind
of man becomes incapable of acquiring any new impressions. He
merely elaborates and displays the stores he has garnered up in his
youth. There are indeed some rare exceptions to the rule ; but
few, very few, can learn a language after the age of forty. 'Tis
true that Cowper did not commence the composition of his delight
ful poems till he had attained that age ; but then it must be
remembered that he had previously passed a life of study and pre=
paration, and that he merely gave tbe honey to the world which he
had "hived" in his youth, bringing to the task a mind polished and
matured by judgment and experience. But, generally speaking,
we father expect reason than rhyme from an elderly gentleman ;•
and when the reverse is the case, the pursuit fits. them as ridi
culously as would a humming-top or a hoop. Yet there are many
who, having passed a life in the sole occupation of making money
— the most unpoetical of all avocations — that in their retirement
entertain themselves with such fantastic pranks and antics, as only
serve to amuse the lookers-on. A retired tradesman, it -is true,
may chase ennui and the twdium vitce,hy digging and planting in
his kitchen garden, or try his hand at rearing tulips and hyacinths;
but if he vainly attempt any other art, or dabble in light literature
or heavy philosophy, he is lost.
Old Foozle was one of those who, having, accumulated wealth,
retire with their housekeepers to spend the remnant of their days
in some suburban retreat, the monotony of whose life is varied by
monthly trips to town to bring tea and grocery, or purchase some
.infallible remedy for their own gout, or their housekeeper's rheu
matism. Unfortunately for his peace, Old Foozle accidentally dipped
into a tattered tome of "Walton's Complete Angler;" and the vivid
description of piscatorial pleasures therein set forth so won upon
his mind, that he forthwith resolved to taste them. In vain were
the remonstrances of his nurse, friend and factotum. The experi
ment must be tried. Having more money than wit to spare, he
presently supplied himself with reels and rods and tackle, land-
9

66 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
ing-nets and gentle-boxes, and all the other necessary parapher
nalia of the art.
Donning his best wig and spectacles, he sallied forth, defended
from the weather by a short spencer buttoned round his loins, and
a pair of double-soled shoes and short gaiters. So eager was he to
commence, that he no sooner espied a piece of water, than, with
trembling hands, he put his rod together, and displayed his nets,
laying his basket, gaping for the finny prey, on the margin of the
placid waters. With eager gaze he watched his newly-varnished
and many-coloured float, expecting every moment to behold it sink,
the inviting bait being prepared secundum artem. He had cer
tainly time for reflection, for his float had been cast at least an
hour, and still remained stationary ; from which he wisely augured
that he was most certainly neither fishing in a running stream
nor in "troubled waters."
Presently a ragged urchin came sauntering along, and very
leisurely seated himself upon a bank near the devoted angler.
Curiosity is mtural to youth, thought Foozle — how I shall
make the lad wonder when I pull out a wriggling fish !
But still another weary hour passed, and the old gentleman's
arms and loins began to ache from the novel and constrained
posture in which he stood. He grew nervous and uneasy at the
want of sport; and thinking that perhaps the little fellow was
acquainted with the locality, he turned towards him, saying, in the
blandest but still most indifferent tone he could assume, lest he
should compromise his dignity by exposing his ignorance —
" I say, Jack, are there any fish in this pond ?"
" There may be, sir," replied the boy, pulling his ragged fore
lock most deferentially, for Old Foozle had an awful church
warden-like appearance ; " there may be, but I should think they
were werry small, 'cause there vos no vater in this here pond afore
that there rain yesterday."
The sallow cheeks of the old angler were tinged with a ruddy
glow, called up by the consciousness of his ridiculous 'position.
Taking a penny from his pocket, he bade the boy go buy some
cakes ; and no sooner had he galloped off, than the disappointed
Waltonian hastily packed up his tackle, and turned his steps
homeward ; and this was the first and last essay of Old Foozle.

Tr, r/ot a risprr rrr you, Sir, I dmii vIs7l tr lie imperii te,
hud ne.it time 7/011 shcots a. hud rot T re hnnie/7it to mi/
mil, did shoot i/ou into a clou/ pit, tluifs all/.''

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 67

THE "CRACK-SHOTS."

No. I.
A club, under the imposing style of the " Crack-Shots," met
every Wednesday evening, during the season, at a house of public
entertainment in the salubrious suburbs of London, known by the
classical sign of the " Magpye and Stump." Besides a trim garden,
and a small close-shaven grass-plat in the rear (where elderly
gentlemen found a cure for tcedium vitas and the rheumatism in a
social game of bowls), there was a meadow of about five or six
acres, wherein a target was erected for the especial benefit of the
members of this celebrated club ; we say celebrated, because of all
clubs that ever "made a "noise" in the world, this bore away the
palm — according to the reports in the neighbourhood. Emulation
naturally caused excitement, and the extraordinary deeds they
performed under its influence we should never have credited, had
we not received the veracious testimony of — the members them
selves. After the trials of skill, they generally spent the evenings
together. Jack Saggers was the hero of the party ; or perhaps he might
be more appropriately termed the •" great gun," and was invariably
voted to the chair. He made speeches^ which "went off" admi
rably ; and he perpetrated puns which, like his " Joe Manton,"
never "missed fire," being unanimously voted "admirable hits"
by the joyous assembly.
Their pleasures and their conversations might truly be said to
be of a " piece."
"Gentlemen," said Jack, one evening rising upon his legs —
" Do me the favour to charge. Are you all primed and loaded ?
I am about to propose the health of a gentleman, who is not only
an honour to society at large, but to the ' Crack Shots' in parti
cular. Gentlemen, the mere mention of the name of Brother
Sniggs — (hear ! hear !) — I know will call forth a volley ! —
9—2

68 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES..
- (Hear ! hear !) Gentlemen, I give you the health of Brother
Sniggs ! — Make ready, present, fire !"
Up went the glasses, aqd down went the liquor in a trice, fol
lowed by three times three, Jack Saggers giving the time, and
acting as "fugle-man."
Sniggs, nervously fingering his tumbler of " half and half," as
if he wanted the spirit to begin, hemmed audibly, and
" Having three times shook his head
To stir his wit, thus he said,"
" Gentlemen, I don't know how it is, but somehows the more a
man has to say, the more he can't ! I feel, for all the world, like
a gun rammed tight and loaded to the muzzle, but without flint
or priming ^ "
"Prime!" exclaimed Jack Saggers; and there was a general
titter, and then he continued ; " as we cannot ' let you off/ Sniggs,
you must go on, you know."
"Gentlemen," resumed Sniggs, "I feel, indeed, so overloaded
by the honours you have conferred on me, that I cannot find
words to express my gratitude. I can only thank you, and
express my sincere wish that your shots may always tell."
And he sat down amidst unbounded applause.
" By no means a- miss ! " cried Jack Saggers.
"A joke of mine, when I knocked down a bird the other
morning," said Sniggs : you must know I was out early, and had
just brought down my bird, when leaping into the adjoining field
to pick it up, a bird-catcher, who had spread his nets on the
dewy grass, walked right up to me."
"I've a visper for 'you, Sir," says he, as cool as a cucumber; "I
don't vish to be imperlite, but next time you shoots a bird vot
I've brought to my call, I'll shoot you into a clay-pit, that's all !"
" And pray what did you say, Sniggs ? " asked Jack Saggers.
" Say ? — nothing ! but I looked unutterable things, and —
shouldering my piece — walked off!"

36

lleir dan ,/o'it rnrrn n /raded i/tin /ioi//lrd a/ /iro/dc's riseera, /'tut boe/'n
/don'/ hmnr n;i/ t/on iiiroii Oy irisrrnr / ia rer s/ujC a iriscra.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 69

THE " CRACK-SHOTS." No. II.
" Snigg's rencontre with the bird-catcher, reminds me of Tom
Swivel's meeting with the Doctor," observed Smart.
" Make a report," cried Jack Saggers.
" Well, you must know, that I had lent him my piece for a day's
shooting; and just as he was sauntering along by a dead wall near
Hampstead, looking both ways at once for a quarry (for he has a
particular squint), a stout gentleman in respectable black, and
topped by a shovel-hat, happened to be coming in the opposite
direction. With an expression of terror the old gentleman drew
himself up against the unyielding bricks, and authoritatively ex
tending his walking-stick, addressed our sportsman in an angry
tone, saying ; " How dare you carry a loaded gun pointed at
people's viscera, you booby ?" Now Tom is a booby, and no mis
take, and so dropping his under jaw and staring at the reverend,
he answered : " I don't know vot you mean by a wiserar. I never
shot a wiserar!"
" Devilish good !" exclaimed Saggers ; and as a matter of course,
everybody laughed.
Passing about the bottle, the club now became hilarious and
noisy ; when the hammer of the president rapped them to order,
and " knocked down " Sniggs for a song, who, after humming over
the tune to himself, struck up the following
CHAUNT. '
I.
When the snow's on the ground and the trees are all bare,
And the rivers and gutters are turned into ice,
The sportsman goes forth to shoot rabbit or hare,
And gives them a taste of his skill in a trice.
Bang ! bang ! goes his Joe,
And the birds fall like snow,
And he bags all he kills in a trice.

70 .SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
CHORUS.
Bang ! bang ! goes his Joe,
And the birds fall like snow,
And he bags all he kills in a trice.
II.
If he puts up a partridge or pheasant or duck,
He marks him, and wings him, and brings him to earth ;
He lets nothing fly — but his piece — and good luck
His bag fills with game and his bosom with mirth.
Bang ! bang ! goes his Joe,
And the birds fall like snow,
And good sport fills his bosom with mirth.
CHORUS.
Bang ! bang ! &c. &c.
III.
When at night he unbends and encounters his pals,
How delighted he boasts of the sport he has had ;
While a kind of "round game's " on the board, and "gals"
Are toasted in bumpers by every lad.
And Jack, Jim, and Joe
Give the maid chaste as snow
That is true as a shot to her lad !
CHORUS.
And Jack, Jim, and Joe
Give the maid chaste as snow
That is true as a shot to her lad !
The customary applause having followed this vocal attempt of
Sniggs, he was asked for a toast or a sentiment.
" Here's — May the charitable man never know the want of—
' shot,' " said Sniggs.
" Excellent !" exclaimed Saggers, approvingly ; " By Jupiter
Tonans, Sniggs, you're a true son— of a gun !"

31

Tou, n^&drCt he afeard. Sir, T amd> a/Tuvmina ad> yoio.

Seymour's sketches. 71
THE "CRACK SHOTS."
No. III.
" Sich a lark !". said Bill Sorrel, breaking abruptly in upon the
. noisy chorus, miscalled a general conversation ; " sich a lark !"
" Where ?" demanded Saggers.
" You've just hit it," replied Sorrel, " for it vere werry near
Tare vhere it happened. I'd gone hout Nearly, you know, and
had jist cotched sight of a bird a-vistling on a twig, and buttered
the vords, ' I'll spile your singin', my tight 'un,' and levelled of my
gun, ven a /(.elderly gentleman, on t'other side of the bank vich vos
atween me and the bird, pops up his powdered noddle in a jiffy,
and goggling at me vith all his eyes, bawls hout in a tantivy of a
fright, ' You needn't be afear'd, sir,' says I, ' I aint a-Tiaiming at
you, and vith that I pulls my trigger— bang! Vell, I lost my
dicky ! and ven I looks for the old 'un, by Jingo ! I'd lost him too.
So I mounts the bank vere he sot, but he vosn't there ; so I looks
about, and /^observes a dry ditch at the foot, and cocking my eye
along it, vhy, I'm blessed, if I didn't see the old fellow a scamper
ing along as fast as his legs could carry him. Didn't I laugh,
ready to split — that's all !"
" I tell you what, Sorrel," said the president, with mock, gravity,
" I consider the whole affair, however ridiculous, most immoral and
reprehensible. What, shall a crack-shot make a target of an elder ?
Never ! Let us seek more appropriate butts for our barrels ! You
may perhaps look upon the whole as a piece of pleasantry; but let
me tell you that you ran a narrow chance of being indicted for a
breach of the peace ! And remember, that even shooting a deer
may not prove so dear a shot as bringing down an old buck !"
This humorous reproof was applauded by a " bravo !" from the
whole club.
Sorrell sang — small, and Sniggs sang another sporting ditty.
"Our next meeting," resumed Saggers, "is on Thursday next,
when the pigeon-match takes place for a silver cup — the ' Crack-
Shots,' against the ' Oriental Club.' I think we shall give them a
* taste cf our quality,' although we do not intend that they shall

72 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
' lick ' us. The silver-cup is their own proposal. The contest
being a pigeon-ra&tch, I humbly proposed, as an amendment, that
the prize should be a ' tumbler ' — which I lost by a minority of
three. In returning thanks, I took occasion to allude to their
rejection of my proposition, and ironically thanked them for
having ' cut ' my ' tumbler.' "
" Werry good !" shouted Sorrel.
"Admirable !" exclaimed Sniggs; and rising with due solemnity,
he proposed the health of the " worthy president," prefacing his
speech with the modest avowal of his inability to do what he still
persisted in doing and did.
"Brother Shots !" said Saggers^ after the usual honours had
been duly performed, "I am so unaccustomed to speaking (a laugh),
that I rise with a feeling of timidity to thank you for the distin
guished honour you have conferred on me. Praise, like wine,
elevates a man, but it likewise thickens and obstructs his speech ;
therefore, without attempting any rhetorical flourish, I will simply
say, I sincerely thank you all for the very handsome manner in
which you have responded to the friendly wishes of Brother
Sniggs ; and, now as the hour of midnight is at hand, I bid you
farewell. It is indeed difficult to part from such good company ;
but, although it is morally impossible there ever can be a division
among such cordial friends, both drunk and sober may at least
separate — in spirits — and I trust we shall all meet again in health
—Farewell !"

tosk^

O/i.l'/i, reor n-e/l .' then ire'// on/y /,],,,/ /,,,rr, mid
dine there, n ///d,: /hrdior on.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 73

THE PICNIC.
No. I.
A merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well
provided with baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beau
tiful and picturesque banks that fringe the river's side near Twick
enham, eagerly looking out for a spot where they might enjoy
their " pic-nic " to perfection. —
"0! uncle, there's a romantic glade; — do let us land there " —
exclaimed a beautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable
old gentleman in a broad-brimmed beaver and spectacles.
" Just the thing, I declare," replied he — " the very spot — pull
away, my lads— -but dear me " continued he, as they neared the
intended landing-place, " What have we here ? What says the
-board?"
, "Parties are not allowed to land and dine here " —
" Oh ! oh ! very well ; then we'll only land here, and dime a
little further on " —
"What a repulsive board " — cried the young lady — " I declare
now I'm quite" vex'd " —
"Never mind, Julia, we won't be bored by any board" — said
the jocose old gentleman.
" I'm sure, uncle," said one of the youths — " we don't require
any board, for we provide ourselves."
" You're quite right, Master Dickey," said his uncle, " for we
only came out for a lark, you know, and no lark requires more
than a little turf for its entertainment ; pull close to the bank and
let us land."
"Oh! but suppose," said the timid Julia, "the surly owner
should pounce upon us, just as we are taking our wine ?"
" Why, then my love," replied he, " we have only to abandon
our wine, and, like sober members of the Temperance Society —
take water."
Pulling the wherry close alongside the grassy bank, and fasten
ing it carefully to the stump of an old tree, the whole party landed
" How soft and beautiful is the green-sward here," said the
10

74 Seymour's sketches.
romantic Julia, indenting the yielding grass with her kid-covered
tiny feet ; " Does not a gentleman of the name of Nimrod sing
the pleasures of the ¦' Turf ?' " said Emma : " I wonder if he ever
felt it as we do ?"
" Certainly not," replied Master Dickey, winking at his uncle,
" for the blades of the Turf he describes, are neither so fresh nor
so green as these ; and the ' stakes ' he mentions are rather dif
ferent from these contained in our pigeon-pie."
" But I doubt, Dickey," said his uncle, " if his pen ever de
scribed a better race than the present company. The Jenkins's,
let me tell you, come of a good stock, and sport some of the best
blood in the country."
" Beautiful branches of a noble tree," exclaimed Master Dickey ;
" but uncle a hard row has made me rather peckish ; let us spread
the provender. I think there's an honest hand of pork yonder that
is right worthy of a friendly grasp : — only see if, by a single touch
of that magical hand, I'm not speedily transformed into a boat."
" What sort of a boat ?" cried Julia. " A cutter to be sure,"
replied Master Dickey, and laughing he ran off with his male
companions to bring the provisions ashore.
Meanwhile the uncle and his niece selected a level spot beneath
the umbrageous trees, and prepared for the unpacking of the
edibles.

¦ H • " - - >JK -
^f:!i4dS:drgy,:r.y; ild .

[hipnr/iini/ for a I'lr -,\Tu~,.
Oh! dear here's ihe sherry and mi.r'd pieldes hroAr
O.res.caul tJur hare broke into diepasli.r too.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. /5

THE PIC-NIC.

No. II.

Notwithstanding the proverbial variety of the elimate, there is
no nation under the sun so fond of Pic:Nic parties as the English ;
and yet how seldom are their pleasant'dreams of rural repasts in
the open air fated to be realised !
However snugly they may pack the materials for the feast, the
pack generally gets shuffled in the carriage, and consequently their
promised pleasure proves anything but " without mixture without
measure." The jam tarts are brought to light, and are found to have got a
little jam too much. The bottles are " cracked " before their time,
and the liberal supplies "of pale sherry and old port are turned
into a — little current.
They turn out their jar pfghirkins and find them "mixed,"
and all their store in a sad pickle.
The leg of mutton is the only thing that has stood in the
general melee.
¦ The plates are all dished, and the dishes only fit for a lunatic
asylum, being all literally " cracked."
Even the knives and forks are found to ride " rusty " on the
occasion. The bread is become sop ; and they have not even the
satisfaction of getting salt to their " porridge," for fhat is dissolved
into " briny tears."
Like the provisions, they find themselves uncomfortably " ham
per 'd ;" for they generally chuse such a very retired spot, that
there is nothing to be had for love or money in the neighbour
hood, for all the shops are as distant&s — ninety -ninth cousins.
However delightful the scenery may be, it is counterbalanced by
the prospect of starvation.
10—2

76 seymour's sketches.
Although on the borders of a stream abounding in fish, they have
neither hook nor line ; and even the young gentlemen who sing,
fail in a catch for want of the necessary bait. Their spirits are
naturally damped by their disappointment, and their holiday gar
ments by a summer shower ; and though the " ducks " of the gen
tlemen take the water as favourably as possible, every white muslin
presently assumes the appearance of a drab, and, becoming a little
limp and dirty, looks as miserable as a lame beggar !
In fine, it is only a donkey or a goose that can reasonably ex
pect to obtain a comfortable feed in a field. It may be very
poetical to talk of " Nature's table-cloth of emerald verdure ;"
but depend on it, a damask one, spread over that full-grown vege
table — a mahogany table — is far preferable.

rhrtnr Ph rst'r fo r/i,- ,/0,

¦'/¦?.

i/hajr//,-?,^ dl7i,y/Tdoi,/,r,„i/ fo #0 hitnli,,,,//- wu ,/, .

Seymour's sketches. 77

DOCTOR SPRAGGS.
Old Doctor Spraggs ! famed Doctor Spraggs !
Was both well fee'd and fed,
And tho' no soldier, Doctor Spraggs
. Had for his country^-bled.
His patients living far and wide,
He was compelled to buy
A horse ; and found no trouble, for
He'd got one in his eye !
He was a tall and bony steed,
And warranted to trot,
And so he bought the trotter, and
Of course four trotters got.
Quoth he : " In sunshine quick he bounds
" Across the verdant plain,
" And e'en when showers fall, he proves
"He — doesn't mind the rain !"

But oh ! one morn, when Dr. Spraggs
Was trotting on his way,
A field of sportsmen came in view,
And made his courser neigh.
" Nay ! you may neigh," quoth Doctor Spraggs,
" But run not, I declare
" I did not come to chase the fox,
" I came to take the— air !"

78 Seymour's sketches.
But all in vain he tugged the rein,
The steed would not be stay'd ;
The " Doctor's stuff" was shaken, and
A tune the vials play'd.
For in his pockets he had stow'd
Some physic for the sick ;
Anon, " crack " went the bottles all,
And form'd a " mixture " quick,
His hat and wig flew off, but still
The reins he hugg'd and haul'd ;
And, tho' no cry the huntsmen heard,
They saw the Doctor — bald !
They loudly laugh'd and cheer'd him on,
While, Spraggs, quite out of breath,
Still gallop'd on against his will,
And came in at the death.
To see the Doctor riding thus
To sportsmen was a treat,
And loudly they applauded him —
(Tho' mounted) on his feat !
MORAL.
Ye Doctors bold, of this proud land
Of liberty and — fogs,
No hunters ride, or you will go
Like poor Spraggs — to the dogs !

41

WAMTED
=Ct?'° ° ° ~

R.SEYMOUR.
RESPECTFULLY
INFORMS THE
PUBLIC THAT
HE HAS
DECLINED ALL Q^"
CONNEX1 ON WITH
r:&AR.o

"t'li ilrar^'n: it lis lite riint ! lo llwile il should he /¦asl, d, too .'

Seymour's sketches. 79

THE BILL-STICKER.
What a mysterious being is the bill-sticker ! How seldom does
he make himself visible to the eyes of the people. Nay, I verily
believe there are thousands in this great metropolis that never saw
a " specimen." We see the effect, but think not of the cause.
He must work at his vocation either at- night or at early dawn,
before the world is stirring.
That he is an industrious being and sticlcs to business, there
cannot be the shadow of a doubt, for every dead- wall is made lively
by his operations,, and every " hoard " a fund of information — in
such type, too, that he who runs may read. What an indefatigable
observer he must be ; for there is scarcely a brick or a board in city
or suburb, however newly erected, in highway or byeway, but is
speedily adorned by his handiwork — aye, and frequently too in
defiance of the threatening — " Bill-Stickers, Beware !" — staring
him in the face. Like nature, he appears to abhor a vacuum. When
we behold the gigantic size of some of our modern "afflches" we are
almost led to suppose that the bill-sticker carries about his placards
in a four-wheeled waggon, and that his paste-pot is a huge cauldron !
How he contrives to paste and stick such an enormous sheet so
neatly against the rugged side of a house, is really astonishing.
Whether three or four stories high, the same precision is remark
able. We cannot but wonder at the dexterity of his practised
hand. The union is as perfect as if Dan Hymen, the saffron-robed
'¦' Joiner," had personally superintended the performance.
The wind is, perhaps, the only real enemy he has to fear. How
his heart and his flimsy paper must flutter in the unruly gusts of
a March wind! We only imagine him pasting up a "Sale of
Horses," in a retired nook, and seeing his bill carried away on
an eddy !
We once had the good fortune to witness a gusty freak of this
kind. The bill-sticker had affixed a bill upon the hooks of his stick,
displaying in prominent large characters — " Sale by Auction —
Mr. Geo. Robins— Capi tal Investment,"-— and so forth, when a

80 Seymour's sketches.
sudden whirlwind took the bill " off the hooks," before it was
" stuck," and fairly enveloped the countenance of a dandy gentle
man who happened at the moment to be turning the corner.
Such a " Capital Investment " was certainly ludicrous in the
extreme. The poor bill-sticker was rather alarmed, for he had never stuck
a bill before on any front that was " occupied,"
He "peeled" the gentleman as quickly as possible, and stam
mered out an apology. The sufferer, however, swore he would
prefer a " biU " against him at the ensuing sessions. Whether his
threat was carried into execution, or he was satisfied with the
" damages " already received, we know not.

¦Ml. *,•)

Oldlli'iaandJ 'ot mafeadJui/ioroflloeseheaiis r non dainty dort.
T Irish (ton in.tr tie/ rr hare ,t irorsr
Tlou.didioy,1 A:oa.,iiiol/iei; /hopes fiieier sha//.

Seymour's sketches. 81

THE BUMPKIN.
Giles was the eldest son and heir of Jeremiah Stiles — a cultivator
of the soil — who, losing his first wife, took unto himself, at the
mature age of fifty, a second, called by the neighbours, by reason
of the narrowness of her economy and the slenderness of her
body, Jeremiah's Spare-rib.
Giles was a " cute " lad, and his appetite soon became, under
nis step-mother's management, as sharp as his wit; although
he continually. complained of getting nothing but fat, when pork
chanced to form a portion of her dietary, it was evident to all his
acquaintance that he really got lean ! His legs, indeed, became
so slight, that many of his jocose companions amused themselves
with striking at them with straws as he passed through the farm
yard of a morning.
" Whoy, Giles !" remarked one of them, "thee calves ha' gone
to grass, lad."
"Thee may say that, Jeames," replied Giles; "for d'ye see they
didnt find I green enough."
"I do think now, Giles," said James, "that Mother Stiles do
feed thee On nothing, and keeps her cat on the leavings."
"Noa, she don't," said Giles, " for we boath' do , get what we
can catch, and nothing more. Whoy now, what do you think,
Jeames, last Saturday if the old 'ooman didn't sarve me out a
dish o' biled" horse-beans — "
" Horse-beans ?" cried James ; " lack-a-daisy-me, and what did
you do ?"
" Whoy, just what a horse would ha' done to be sure — "
"Eat em?"
"Noa — I kicked, and said ' Nay I and so the old 'ooman put her
self into a woundy passion wi' I. ' Not make a dinner of horse-
beans, you dainty dog,' says she ; ' I wish you may never have a
worse.' — ' Noa, mother,' says I, ' I hope I never shall.' And she
did put herself into such a tantrum, to be sure — so I bolted;
11

82 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
whereby, d'ye see, I saved my bacon, and the old 'ooman her beans.
But it won't do. Jeames, I've a notion I shall go a recruit, and
then I'm thinking I shall get into a reg'lar mess, and get shut of
' a reg'lar row."
" Dang it, it's too bad !" said the sympathising James ; " and
when do thee go V
; " Next March, to be sure," replied Giles, with a spirit which
was natural to him — indeed, as to any artificial spirit it was really
foreign to his lips.
<f " But thee are such a scare-crow, Giles," said James ; " thee are
thin as a weasel."
" My drumsticks" answered he, smiling, " may recommend me
to the band — mayhap — for I do think they'll beat anything."
" I don't like sogering neither," said James, thoughtfully,
" Suppose the French make a hole in thee with a bagnet — "
" Whoy, then I shall be, ' sewed up ' thee know."
" That's moighty foine," replied James, shaking his head ; " but
I'd rather not, thank ye."
" Oh ! Jeames, a mother-in-law's a greater bore than a bagnet,
depend on't : and it's in my mind, it's better to die in a trench
than before an empty trencher — I'll list."
And with this unalterable determination, the half-starved, though
still merry Giles, quitted his companion ; and the following month,
in pursuance ofthe resolve he had made,he enlisted in his Majesty's
service. Fortunately for the youth, he received more billets than
bullets, and consequently " grew out of knowledge," although^he
obtained a world of information in his travels ; and, at the expira
tion of the war, returned to his native village covered with laurels,
and in the enjoyment of the half-pay of a corporal, to which rank
he had been promoted in consequence of his meritorious conduct
in the Peninsula. His father was still living, but his step-mother
was lying quietly in the church-yard.
" I hope, father," said the affectionate Giles, " that thee saw
her buried in a deep grave, and laid a stone atop of her ?"
" I did, my son."
" Then I am happy," replied Giles.

43

ei.

,,,i,r renin ,ond Jo, inloeds iran, his merinna.

I net /or I

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 83
THE POUTER AND THE DRAGON.
"Another pigeon! egad, I'm in luck's way this morning."
Round and red, through the morning fog
The. sun's bright face
Shone, like some jolly topping dog
Of Bacchus race ;
When Jenkins, with his gun and cur
On sport intent,
Through fields, and meadows, many fur —
— longs gaily went.
He popp'd.at birds both great and small,
But nothing hit ;
Or if he hit, they wouldn't fall —
No, not a bit !
" It's werry strange, I do declare ;
I never see !
I go at sky-larks in the hair
Or on a tree.
" It's all the same, they fly away
Has I let Aj-r
The birds is frightened, I dare say,
And vill not die.
" Vhy, here's a go ! I hav'n't ramm'd
In any shot ;
The birds must think I only shamm'd,
And none have got.
" I'll undeceive 'em quickly now,
I bet a crown ;
And whether fieldfare, tit, or crow,
Vill bring 'em down."
8 11-2

84 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
And as he spake a pigeon flew,
Across his way —
Bang went his piece — and Jenkins slew
The flutt'ring prey.
He bagg'd his game, and onward went,
When to his view
Another rose, by fortune sent
To make up two.
He fired, and beheld it fall
With inward glee,
And for a minute 'neath a wall
Stood gazing he.
When from behind, fierce, heavy blows
Fell on his hat,
1 And knock'd his beaver o'er his nose,
And laid him flat.
" What for," cried Jenkins, " am I mill'd,
Sir, like this ere ?"
" You villain, you, why you have kill'd
My pouter rare."
The sturdy knave who struck him down
With frown replied : —
" For which I'll make you pay a crown
Nor be denied."
Poor Jenkins saw it was in vain
To bandy words ;
So paid the cash and vow'd, again
He'd not shoot birds —
At least of that same feather, lest
For Pouter shot
Some Dragon fierce should him molest —
And fled the spot.

J/rttirl rrrtes el~ Ctt out ¦

Seymour's sketches. 85

STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM.
Among all the extraordinary and fantastic dishes compounded for
the palate of Heliogabalus, the Prince of Epicures, that delicious
admixture of the animal and the vegetable" — Strawberries and
Cream — is never mentioned in the pages of the veracious chronicler
of his gastronomic feats !
Yes ! 'tis a lamentable truth, this smooth, oleaginous, and de
licately odorous employment for the silver spoon was unknown. —
Should the knowledge of his loss reach him in the fields of Elysium,
will not his steps be incontinently turned towards the borders of
the Styx — his plaintive voice hail the grim ferryman, while in his
most persuasive tones he cries—" Row me back— row me back,"
that he may enjoy, for a brief space, this untasted pleasure ? Ye
gods! in our "mind's eye" we behold the heartless and unfeel
ing Charon refuse his earnest prayer, and see his languid spirit —
diluted by disappointment to insipidity — wandering over the ena
melled meads, as flat and shallow as an overflow in the dank fens
of Lincoln.
His imagination gloats upon the fragrant invention, and he
gulps at the cheating shadow, until Elysium becomes a perfect
Hades to his tortured spirit.
Mellow, rich, and toothsome compound ! Toothsome did we say \
Nay, even those who have lost their molares incisores, canine
teeth, denies sapiential, and all, can masticate "and inwardly
digest" thee ! Racy and recherche" relish !
Thou art — As delicate as first love —
As white and red as a maiden's cheek —
As palatable as well-timed flatter}' —
As light and filling as the gas of a balloon —
As smooth as a courtier —
As odorous as the flowers of Jasmin —
As soft as floss silk —
As encouraging, without being so illusory, as Hope —
As tempting as green herbage to lean kine—

86 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
As tempting as a Chancery suit to the Bill of a cormo
rant — lawyer —
 a pump to a thirsty paviour —
 a sun-flower to a bee —
 a ripe melon to a fruit-knife —
 r a rose to a nightingale — or
 a pot of treacle to a blue-bottle—
As beautiful to the eye as a page of virgin- vellum richly
illuminated — And
As satisfactory as a fat legacy !
Talk of nectar ! if Jupiter should really wish to give a bonne-
bouche to Juno, Leda, or Venus, or any one of his thousand and
one flames, let him skim the 'milky-way' — transform the instru
mental part of the 'music of the spheres' into 'hautboys' and
compound the only dish worth the roseate lips of the gentle dames
' in nubibus,' and depend on it, the cups of Ganymede and
Hebe will be rejected for a bowl of — Strawberries and Cream.

45

Doivtjvu U/ar a days fi.dirnaSam ¦'
Oh, n-errr tinieh, neerr naicli.
Ah.hut so, ne pre/ile dent hio,r honjrojo a lylnoo Sam,
dieeare surli tools

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 87

THE JOLLY ANGLERS.
On a grassy bank, " beside a meandering stream," sat two gen
tlemen averaging forty years of age. The day was sultry, and,
weary of casting their lines without effect, they had stuck their
rods in the bank, and sought, in a well-filled basket of provisions
and copious libations of bottled porter, to dissipate their disap
pointment. " Ain't this jolly ? and don't you like a day's fishing, Sam ?"
" 0 ! weriy much, werry much," emphatically replied his friend,
taking his pipe from his mouth.
" Ah ! but some people don't know how. to go a-fishing, Sam ;
they are such fools."
" That's a werry good remark o' your'n," observed Sam ; " I
daresay as how hangling is werry delightful vhen the fishes vill
bite : but vhen they von't, vhy they von't and vot's the use o'
complaining. Hangling is just like writing: for instance— you
begins vith, ' I sends you this 'ere line hoping,' and they don't
nibble ; vell ! that's just the same as not hanswering ; and, as I
takes it, there the correspondence ends !"
" Exactly ; I'm quite o' your opinion," replied his companion,
tossing off a bumper of Barclay's best ; " I say, Sammy, we mustn't
empty t'other bottle tho'."
"Vhy not?"
" Cos, do you see, I'm just thinking ve shall vant a little porter
to carry us home ; for, by Jingo ! I don't think as how either of us
can toddle — that is respectably !"
" Nonsense ! I'd hundertake to valk as straight as a harrow ;
on'y, I must confess, I should like to have a snooze a'ter my pipe ;
I'm used to it, d'ye see, and look for it as nat'rally as a babby
does." "Vell, but take t'other glass for a nightcap; for you know,
Sammy, if you sleep vithout, you may catch cold ; and, vhatever
you do, don't snore, or you'll frighten the fish."
'• Naughty fish ! " replied Sammy, " They know they're naughty

88 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
too, or else they voudn't be so afear'd o' the rod ! — here's your
health !" and he tossed off the proffered bumper.
"Excuse me a-rising to return thanks," replied his friend,
grasping Sammy's hand, and looking at him with that fixed and
glassy gaze which indicates the happy state of inebriety, termed
' maudlin ;' " I know you're a sincere friend, and there ain't
nobody as I value more : man and boy have I knowed you: you're
unchanged ! your're the same ! ! there ain't no difference ! ! ! and
I hope you may live many years to go a-fishing, and I may live to
see it, Sammy. Yes, old boy, this here's one of them days that
won't be forgotten : it's engraved on my memory deep as the
words on a tombstone, ' Here he lies ! Here he lies ! " he repeated
with a hiccup, and rolled at full length across his dear friend.
Sammy, nearly as much overcome as his friend, lifted up his
head, and sticking his hat upon it, knocked it over his eyes, and
left him to repose ; and, placing his own back against an accom
modating tree, he dropped his pipe, and then followed the example
of his companion.
After a few hours' deep slumber, they awoke. The sun " had
gone down," and evening had already drawn her star-bespangled
mantle over the scene of their festive sport.
Arousing themselves, they sought for their rods, and the rem
nants of their provisions, but they were all gone.
" My hey ! Sammy, if somebody has not taken advantage of us.
My watch too has gone, I declare."
"And so's mine!" exclaimed Sammy, feeling his empty fob.
" Vell, if this ain't a go, never trust me."
" I tell you vot it is, Sammy ; some clever hartist or another
has seen us sleeping, like the babes in the wood, and has drawn
us at full length !"

iieiih in, a, soft voire! A small -poruon, of VaJ, and, Man,, well d/me!
Winter™, & mice irfikuriHerj Tlate d wetH, odd Ham, wed. Hone

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 89

THE EATING HOUSE.
From twelve o'clock until four, the eating houses of the City are
crammed with hungry clerks.
Bills of fare have not yet been introduced, — the more's the pity ;
but in lieu thereof, you are no sooner seated in one of the snug
inviting little settles, with a table laid for four or six, spread with
a snowy cloth, still bearing the fresh quadrangular marks impressed
by the mangle, and rather damp, than the dapper, ubiquitous
waiter, napkin in hand, stands before you, and rapidly runs over
a detailed account of the tempting viands all smoking hot, and
ready to be served up.
" Beef, boiled and roast ; veal and ham ; line of pork, roast ;
leg boiled, with peas pudding ; cutlets, chops and steaks, greens,
taters, and peas, &c, &c.
Some are fastidious, and hesitate ; the waiter, whose eyes are 'all
about him,' leaves you to meditate and decide, while he hastens to
inform a new arrival, and mechanically repeats his catalogue of
dainties ; and bawling out at the top of his voice, "One roast beef
and one taters," you echo his words, and he straightway reports
your wishes in the same voice and manner to the invisible pur
veyors below, and ten to one but you get a piece of boiled fat to
eke out your roast meat.
In some houses, new and stale bread, at discretion, are provided ;
and many a stripling, lean and hungry as a greyhound, with a large
appetite and a small purse, calls for a small plate, without vege
tables, and fills up the craving crannies with an immoderate pro
portion of the staff of life, while the reckoning simply stands, " one
small plate 6d., one bread Id., one waiter Id. ;" and at this econo
mical price satisfies the demands of his young appetite.
But still, cheap as this appears, he pays in the aggregate, for
there are frequently 500 or 600 diners daily at these Establish
ments ; and the waiter, who generally purchases his place, and
provides glass, cloths, &c, not only makes ' a good thing of it,' but
frequently accumulates sufficient to set up on his own account, in
which case he is almost sure of being followed by the regular cus
tomers. For he is universally so obliging, and possesses such a
12

90 Seymour's sketches.
memory, and an aptness in discovering the various tastes of his
visitors, that he seldom fails in making most of the every-day
feeders his fast friends.
" Tom, bring me a small plate of boiled beef and potatoes," cries
one of his regulars. Placing his hand upon the table-cloth, and
knocking off the crumbs with his napkin, he bends to the gentle
man, and in a small confidential voice informs him,
" The beef won't do for you, Sir, it's too low, it's bin in cut a
hour. Fine ribs o' lamb, jist up."
" That will do, Tom," says the gratified customer.
" Grass or spinach,' Sir ? fine ' grass,' — first this season."
" Bring it, and quick, Tom," replied the gentleman, pleased with
the assiduous care he takes in not permitting him to have an in
different cut of a half-cold joint.
The most extraordinary part of the business is the ready manner
in which he ' casts up ' all you have eaten, takes the reckoning,
and then is off again in a twinkling.
A stranger, and one unaccustomed to feed in public, is recognised
in a moment by his uneasy movements. He generally slinks into
the nearest vacant seat, and is evidently taken aback by the ap
parently abrupt and rapid enunciation of the voluble and active
waiter, and, in the hurry and confusion, very frequently decides
upon the dish least pleasant to his palate.
A respectable gentleman of the old school, of a mild and reverend
appearance, and a lean and hungry figure, once dropped into a
settle where we were discussing a rump steak and a shallot, tender
as an infant, and fragrant as a flower garden ! Tom pounced upon
him in a moment, and uttered the mystic roll. The worthy senior
was evidently confused and startled, but necessity so far overcame
his diffidence, that he softly said,
" A small portion of veal and ham, well done."
Tom, whirled round, continuing the application of his eternal
napkin to a tumbler which he was polishing, bawled out in a
stentorian voice,
" Plate o' weal, an' dam well done !"
We shall never sponge from the slate of our memory the utter
astonishment expressed in the bland countenance of the startled
old gentleman at this peculiar echo of his wishes.

47

^XjtMTJLX:,

See deary et /Ms z> the way Ip ho/hldi uiTtzr InrhU:
drop il yen Id 1 1 isilo Ihr water so/ oou"ser I 'made
iw splash, cut,!, hold near rod. .t'/eadi/a in this

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 91

EXAMPLE.
There are some individuals so inflated with self-sufficiency, and
entertain such an overw.eaning opinion of their skill in all matters,
that they must needs have a finger in every pie.
Perhaps a finer specimen than old V  , of this genius of
egotistic, meddling mortals, never existed. He was a man well-
to-do in the world, and possessed not only a large fortune, but a
large family.
He. had. an idea that no man was better qualified to bring up
his children in the way they should go ; and eternally plagued
the obsequious tutors of his sons with his novel mode of instilling
the rudiments of the Latin tongue, although he knew not a word
of the language ; and the Obedient mistresses of his'daughters with
his short road to attaining a perfection iu playing "the piano-forte,
without knowing a note ofthe gamut: but what .could'.they say;
why, nothing more or less than 'that' they were' "astonished;"
which was vague enough to be as true as it was flattering.
And then he was so universally clever, that he even interfered
in the culinary department of his household, instructing the red-
elbowed, greasy, grinning cook, in the sublime art of- drawing,
stuffing, and-roasting a goose, for which she certainly did not fail
to roast the goose (her master) when she escaped to the regions
below. Even his medical attendant was compelled to acknowledge the
efficacy of his domestic prescriptions of water-gruel and honey in
catarrhs, and roasted onions in ear-aches, and sundry other simple
appliances ; and, in fine, found himself, on most occasions, rather
a " consulting surgeon," than an apothecary, for he was compelled
to yield to the man who had studied Buchan's and Graham's
Domestic Medicine. And the only consolation he derived from
his yielding affability, were the long bills occasioned by the mis
takes of this domestic quack, who was continually running into
errors, which required all his skill to repair. Nay, his wife's
mantua-maker did not escape his tormenting and impertinent
advice; for he pretended to a profound knowledge of all the

92 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.'
modes, from the time of Elizabeth to Victoria, and deemed his
judgment in frills, flounces, and corsages, as undeniable and in
fallible. Of course the sempstress flattered his taste ; for his wife, poor
soul ! she soon had tact enough to discover, had no voice in the
business. His eldest son, George, had a notion that he could angle. Old
V  immediately read himself up in Walton, and soon convinced
— himself, that he was perfect in that line, and quite capable of
teaching the whole art and mystery.
" See, George," said he, when they had arrived at a convenient
spot for their first attempt, " this is the way to handle your tackle ;
-drop it gently into the water, — so !" and twirling the fine aloft,
he hooked the branches of an overhanging tree ! — sagaciously
adding, " You see I make no splash ! and hold your rod in this
manner !"
George was too much afraid of his imperious father to point
out his error, and old V  consequently stood in the broiling
sun for a full quarter of an hour, before he discovered that he had
caught a birch instead of a perch !

48

Fraciic e.

Old of the way, Soyarlxps, I am, sure. 1 slzaJl
hrti. him, -this -term

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 93

PRACTICE.
" Sweet is the breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds."— Milton.
" Well, this is a morning !" emphatically exclaimed a stripling
with a mouth and eyes formed by Nature of that peculiar width
and power of distension, so admirably calculated for the expression
of stupid wonder or surprise ; while his companion, elevating his
nasal organ and projecting his chin, sniffed the fresh morning
breeze, as they trudged through the dewy meadows, and declared
that it was exactly for all the world similar-like to reading
' Thomson's Seasons !' in which apt and appropriate simile the
other concurred.
" Tom's a good fellow to lend us his gun," continued he — '' I
only hope it ain't given, to kicking, that's all. I say, Sugarlips,
keep your powder dry."
" Leave me alone for that," replied Sugarlips ; " I know a thing
or two, although this is the first time that ever I have been out. —
What a scuffling the birds do make," — added he, peeping into the
cage which they had, as a precautionary measure, stocked with
sparrows, in order that they might not be disappointed in their
sport — " How they long to be on the wing !"
"I'lLwing'em presently!" cried his comrade, with a vaunting
air — " and look if here ain't the very identical spot for a display
of my skill. Pick out one of the best and biggest, and tie up
a-top of yonder stile, and you shall soon have a specimen of my
execution." Sugarlips quickly did his bidding.
" Now — come forward and stand back ! What do ye think o'
that, ey ?". said the sportsman — levelling his gun, throwing back
his head, closing his sinister ocular, and stretching out his legs
after the manner of the Colossus of Rhodes — " Don't you admire
my style ?"
" Excellent !" said Sugarlips—" But I think I could hit."
"What?" " Why, the stile to be sure."
" — Keep quiet, can't you — Now for it — " and, trembling with
eagerness, his 'hand pulled the trigger, but no report followed.

94 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
" The deuce is in the gun," cried he, lowering it, and examining
the lock ; " What can ail it ?"
" Why, I'll be shot if that ain't prime," exclaimed Sugarlips,
laughing outright.
" What do you mean ?"
" I've only forgot the priming — that's all."
" There's a pretty fellow, you are, for a sportsman."
" Well, it's no matter as it happens ; for, though ' Time and tide
wait for no man,' a sparrow tied must, you know. There ! that
will do."
" Sure, you put the shot in, now ?"
" If you put the shot into Dicky as surely, he'll never peck
groundsel again, depend on it."
Again the murderous tube was levelled; Sugarlips backed
against an adjoining wall, with a nervous adhesiveness that evi
dently proved him less fearful of a little mortar than a great gun !
" That's right ; out of the way, Sugarlips ; I am sure I shall hit
him this time." And no sooner had he uttered this self-congratu
latory assurance (alas ! not life-assurance !) than a report (most
injurious to the innocent cock-sparrow) was heard in the neigh
bourhood !
" Murder \ — mur — der !" roared a stentorian voice, which made
the criniferous coverings of their craniums stand on end
" Like quills upon the fretful porcupine."
In an instant the sportsman let fall his gun, and Sugarlips ran
affrighted towards the stile. He found it really " vox et preterm
nihil ;" for a few feathers of the bird alone were visible ; he had
been blown to " nothing ; and, peeping cautiously round the angle
of the wall, he beheld a portly gentleman in black running along
with the unwieldy gait of a chased elephant.
" Old Flank'em, of the Finishing Academy, by jingo !" exclaimed
Sugarlips. " It's a mercy we didn't finish him ! Why, he must
actually have been on the point of turning the corner. I think
we had better be off; for, if the old dominie catches us, he will
certainly liberate our sparrows, and — put us in the cage !"
" But, where's the spoil ?"
" Spoil, indeed !" cried Sugarlips ; " you've spoiled him nicely,
I've an idea, Tom, you were too near, as the spendthrift nephew
said of his miserly uncle. If you can't get an aim at a greater
distance, you'd never get a name as a long shot — that's my mind."

/'re cej.)l,

Youjtg men. sTwzUii pr active , s ans axlsrmis s iorv ,
tuxIH ?]y:y con, di-trik four bottles wrttzont ~bemcf
fhzstered,, 'then, tliey wiTl ~be $o~ber people, for it
won't hi- easy to make them -tip $ey, a, irunkcn 'man,
I ab oirccrurf&i f! I

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 95

PRECEPT-
Uncle Samson was a six-bottle man. His capacity was certainly
great, whatever might be said of his intellect ; for I have seen him
rise without the least appearance of elevation, after having swal
lowed the customary half dozen. He laughed to scorn all modern
potations of wishy-washy French and Rhine wines— deeming them
unfit for the. p'alate of a true-born Englishman. "-" Port, Sherry, and
Madeira were his only tipple— the rest, he would assert, were only
fit for finger-glasses !
He was of a bulky figure, indeed a perfect Magnum among
men, with a very apoplectic brevity of- neck, and a logwood com
plexion,— and though a .staunch Church-of-England-man, he might
have been mistaken, -from his predilection for -the Port, to be a
true Mussulman. ' To hear hini" discourse upon the age of his
wines— the ¦ ' pinhole,' the ' crust,' the ' bees'- wing,' &c, was per
fectly edifying— and every man who could- not imbibe the pre
scribed-quantum became, his butt. To temperance and tea-total
societies he attributed the rapid growth of radicalism and dissent.
" Water,'-' he would say with a sort of hydrophobic shudder —
" is only a fit beverage for asses !" — " To say a man could
drink like a fish, was once-the greatest encomium that a bon- vi vant
could bestow upon a brother Bacchanalian — but, alas! in this
matter-of-fact and degenerate age, men do so literally — washing
their gills with unadulterated water ! — Dropsy and water on the
chest must be the infallible result ! If such an order of things
continue, all the puppies in the kingdom, who would perhaps have
become jolly dogs in their time, will be drowned. Yes, they'll
inevitably founder like a water-logged vessel, in sight of port.
These water-drinkers will not have a long reign. They would
fain persuade us that ' Truth lies at the bottom of a well,' — lies,
indeed ! I tell you Horace knew better, and that his assertion of
' There is truth in wine,' was founded on experience— his draughts
had no water-mark in em, depend on it."
He was a great buyer of choice ' Pieces,' and his cellar contained

96 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
one of the best stocks in the kingdom, both in the wood and
bottle. Poor Uncle ! — he has now been some years in the wood
himself, and snugly stowed in the family vault !
Having been attacked with a severe cold, he was compelled to
call in the Doctor, who sent him a sudorific in three Lilliputian
bottles ; but although he received the advice of his medical friend,
he followed Shakespeare's, " Throw physic to the dogs,'*
and prescribed for himself a bowl of wine- whey as a febrifuge.
His housekeeper remonstrated, but he would have his ' whey,' and
he died ! leaving a handsome fortune, and two good-looking
nephews to follow him to the grave.
Myself and Cousin (the two nephews aforesaid)- were vast
favourites with the old gentleman, and strenuously did he endea
vour to initiate us in the art of drinking, recounting the feats of
his youth, and his drinking-bouts with my father, adding, with a
smile, " But you'll never be a par with your Uncle, Ned, till you
can carry the six bottles under your waistcoat."
My head was certainly stronger than my Cousin's ; he went as
far a,s the third bottle — the next drop was on the floor ! Now I
did once manage the fourth bottle — but then — I must confess I
was obliged to give it up !
" Young men," would my Uncle say, " should practice sans in
termission, until they can drink four bottles without being flus
tered, then they will be sober people,; for it won't be easy to make
them tipsy — a drunken man I abominate !"

,1 Daidn Pleasure" The dOTcrrwu Out
Its. ti-ei-ru tort, ljul ¦.¦r,:rry -p~Ua.>inrtl

SEYMOURS SKETCHES.

97

A DAY'S PLEASURE.
No. I.
THE JOURNEY OUT.
" It's werry hot, but werry pleasant."
Says Mrs. Sibson to her spouse
" The day is hot and fair ;
I think 'twould do the children good
To get a little hair !
" For ve've been moping here at home
And nothin' seen o' life ;
Vile neighbor Jones he takes his jaunts -
0' Sundays vith his vife 1"
" Vell ! veil ! my dear,", quoth Mr. S—
" "Let's hear vot you purpose ;
I'm al'ays ready to comply,
As you, my love, veil knows.
" I'll make no bones about the cost ;
You knows I never stick
About a trifle to amuse,
So, dearest Pol, be quick."
" Vhy this is it :— I think ve might
To Horns ey have a day ;
Maria, Peg, and Sal, and Bet
Ve'd pack into a ' chay.'
" Our Jim and Harry both could valk,
(God bless their little feet !)
The babby in my arms I'd take —
I'm sure 'twould be a treat !"

13

98 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Quoth he : "I am unanimous ! "
And so the day was fix'd ;
And forth they started in good trim,
Tho' not with toil unmix'd.
Across his shoulders Sibson bore
A basket with the " grub,"
And to the " chay " perform'd the " horse
Lest Mrs. S — should snub.
Apollo smiled ! — that is, the sun
Blazed in a cloudless sky,
And Sibson soon was in a " broil "
By dragging of his " fry."
Says S — , " My love, I'm dry as dust !"
When she replied, quite gay,
" Then, drink, for see I've bottled up
My spirits for the day."
And from the basket drew a flask,
And eke a footless glass ;
He quaffed the drink, and cried, "Now, dear,
I'm strong as  " let that pass !
At last they reach'd the destined spot,
And " prog " and babes unpacked ;
They ran about, and stuff d, and cramm'd,
And really nothing lack'd.
And Sibson, as he " blew a cloud,"
Declared, " It vos a day !"
And vow'd that he would come again —
Then call'd for "Vot's to pay ?"

61

d Day's Pleasure," The Journey Harm"
~Vtjt a soaJcinct ve sthxH get

Seymour's sketches. 99
A DAY'S PLEASURE.
No. II.
THE journey home.
" Vot a soaking ve shall get."
Across the fields they homeward trudged, when, lo ! a heavy rain
Came pouring from the sky ;
Poor Sibson haul'd, the children squall'd ! alas ! it was too plain
They would not reach home dry.
With clay-clogg'd wheels, and muddy heels, and Jim upon his back,
He grumbled on his way ;
" Veil, blow my vig ; this is a rig !" cried Sibson : "Vell ! alack!
I shan't forget this day !
" My shoes is sop, my head's a mop ; I'm vet as any think ;
Oh ! shan't ve cotch a cold ! "
" Your tongue is glib enough !" his rib exclaim'd, and made him
shrink,
— For she was such a scold —
And in her eye he could descry a spark that well he knew
Into a flame would rise ;
So he was dumb, silent and glum, as the small " chay " he drew,
And ventured no replies.
Slip, slop, and slush ! past hedge and bush, the dripping mortals go
(Tho' 'twas " no go" S  thought) ;
" If this ere's fun, vy I for vun," cried he, with face of woe,
" Von't soon again be caught.
13—2

100 Seymour's sketches.
" Vet to the skin, thro' thick and thin, to trapes ain't to my mind ;
So the next holiday
I vill not roam, but stick at home, for there at least I'll find
The means to soak my clay.
" 'Tis quite a fag, this ' chay' to drag — the babies too is cross,
And Mrs. S  is riled ;
'Tis quite a bore ; the task is more — more fitter for an horse;
And with the heat I'm briled !
" No, jaunts adoo ! I'll noneo' you !"— and soon they reached their
home,
Wet through and discontent —
" Sure sich a day, I needs must say," exclaim'd his loving spouse,
" Afore I never spent !"

51

"Irrssr.--- "~''^jK.-.

The deep, deep Sea,.
W Dolls singvy-Eiexrts as warm, ad
ihe. waters co2cls''.

rthose above He- -ahder

Seymour's sketches. 101

A DAY'S PLEASURE.
No. III.
Dobbs's "Duck."— A Legend of Horselydown.
It may be accepted as an indubitable truth, that when the ten-
derest epithets are " bandied " between a married couple, that the
domestic affairs do not go particularly straight.
Dobbs and his rib were perhaps the most divided pair that ever
were yoked by Hymen. D. was a good-humoured fellow, a jovial
blade, full of high spirits — while his wife was one of the most
cross-grained and " cantankerous " bodies that ever man was
" blessed" with — and yet to hear the sweet diminutives which they
both employed in their dialogues, the world would have concluded
that they were upon the best terms conceivable.
" My love," quoth Mrs. D., " I really now should like to take
a boat and row down the river as far as Battersea ; the weather
is so very fine, and you know, my dear love, how fond I am of
the water."
D. could have added (and indeed it was upon the very tip of his
tongue) — "mixed with spirits" — but he wisely restrained the im
pertinent allusion.
" Well, my duck," said he, " you have only to name the day,
you know I am always ready to please," — and then, as was his
habit, concluded his gracious speech by singing —
" 'Tis woman vot seduces all mankind—
Their mothers teach them the wheedling art."
"Hold your nonsense, do," replied Mrs. D  , scarcely able to
restrain her snappish humour, but, fearful of losing the jaunt, po
litely added, "Suppose, love, we go to-day — no time like the
present, dear."
" Thine am I— thine am I," sang the indulgent husband.

102 Seymour's sketches.
And Mrs. D  hereupon ordered the " boy " to carry down to
the " stairs " a cargo of brandy, porter, and sandwiches, for the
intended voyage, and taking her " dear love " in the humour, pre
sently appeared duly decked out for the trip.
Two watermen and a wherry were soon obtained, and Dobbs,
lighting his cigar, alternately smoked and sang, while his " duck "
employed herself most agreeably upon the sandwiches.
The day was bright and sunny, and exceedingly hot ; and they
had scarcely rowed as far as the Red House, when Mrs. D 
became rather "misty," from the imbibation of the copious
draughts she had swallowed to " quench " her thirst.
A lighter being ahead, the boatmen turned round, while Dobbs,
casting up his eyes to the blue heavens, was singing, in the hilarity
of his heart, "Hearts as warm as those above, lie under the waters
cold," when the boat heeled, and his duck, who unfortunately
could not swim, slipped gently over the gunwale, and, unnoticed,
sank to rise no more.

" Ah ! " said Dobbs, when some months afterwards he was
speaking of the sad bereavement, " She was a wife ! I shall never
get such another, and what's more, I would not if I could."

53

D'e/e ii'/Jjit a, jnonrnd, of iriMjrir sh^l-?

Seymour's sketches. 103

THE PRACTICAL JOKER.
No. I.
Those wags who are sq fond of playing off their jokes upon others
require great skill and foresight to prevent the laugh being turned
against themselves. ¦
Jim Smith was an inveterate Joker, and his jokes were, for the
most part,- of. the .practical kind. He had a valuable tortoiseshell
cat, whose beauty was not only the theme of praise with all the
old maids in.the neighbourhood, but her charms attracted the no
tice of numerous feline gentlemen "dwelling in the vicinity, who
were nocturnaUy wont- to pay their devoirs, by that. species. of
serenades^- known under the cacophonous name of caterwauling.
One Yery ugly ,«Tom,- (who, it was whispered abroad, was a great-
.grandfather, and scandalously notorious for gallantries unbecoming
a cat,of-his age)-was particularly obnoxious to our hero; and in an
unlucky moment, he resolved to ' pickle him,' as he facetiously
termed it. Now his process of pickling consisted in mixing a por
tion of-prussic acid in milk. Taking the precaution to call in bis
own pet and favourite, he placed the portion in the accustomed
.path of her. long-whiskered suitor. Tom, finding the coast clear,
slipped his furry body over the wall, and dropped, gently as a
lady's glove into the garden, and slily smelling the flower-borders,
as if he were merely amusing himself in the elegant study of
botany, stealthily approached the house, and uttering a low plain
tive ' miau,' to attract the attention of his dear Minx, patiently
awaited the appearance of his true-love.
Minx heard the voice she loved so well, and hurried to meet her
ancient beau. A slight noise, however, alarmed his timidity, and
he scaled the wall in a twinkling.
Presently the screams of the maid assured him that " something

104 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
had taken place ;" and when he heard the words " Oh ! the cat !
the cat !" he felt quite certain that the potion had taken effect. He
walked deliberately down stairs, and behold ! there lay Miss Minx,
his own favourite, struggling in the agonies of death, on the parlour
rug. The fact is, he had shut the doors, but forgotten that the
window was open, and the consequence was, the loss of poor Minx,
who had drunk deep of the malignant poison designed for her
gallant. This was only one of a thousand tricks that had miscarried.
Having one day ascertained that his acquaintance, Tom Wilkins,
was gone out " a-shooting," he determined to way-lay him on his
return. It was a beautiful moonlight night in the latter end of Oc
tober. Disguising himself in a demoniac mask, a pair of huge
wings, and a forked tail, he seated himself on a stile in the sports
man's path.
Anon he espied the weary and unconscious Tom approaching,
lost in the profundity of thought, and though not in love, ruminat
ing on every miss he had made in that day's bootless trudge.
He almost touched the stile before his affrighted gaze encoun
tered this ' goblin damned.'
His short crop bristled up, assuming the stiffness of a penetrating
hair brush.
For an instant his whole frame appeared petrified, and the tide
and current of his life frozen up in thick-ribbed ice.
Jim Smith, meanwhile, holding out a white packet at arm's
length, exclaimed, in a sepulchral tone, —
" D'ye want a pound of magic shot ?"

54

die dent e/eiit s/ieet dent sliaot its enly ine-.Jirn dnut/e

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 105

THE PRACTICAL JOKER.
No. II.
Awfully ponderous as the words struck upon the tightened drum
of Tom's auriculars, they still tended to arouse his fainting spirit.
" Mer — mer — mercy on us !" ejaculated he, and shrank back a
pace or two, still keeping his dilating optics fixed upon the horri
ble spectre.
" D'ye want a pound of magic shot ?" repeated Jim Smith.
" Mur — mur — der !" screamed Tom ; and mechanically raising
his gun, for action of some kind appeared absolutely necessary to
keep life, within him, he aimed at the Tempter, trembling .in every
joint. Jim, who had as usual never calculated upon such a turning of
the tables, threw off his head — his assumed one, of course, — and,
leaping from the stile, cried aloud —
" Oh ! Tom, don't shoot — don't shoot ! — it's only me — Jim
Smith!" Down dropped the gun from the sportsman's grasp.
" Oh ! you fool ! you — you — considerable fool !" cried he, sup
porting himself on a neighbouring hawthorn, which very kindly
and considerately lent him an arm on the occasion. " It's a great
mercy — a very great mercy, Jim— as we wasn't both killed! —
another minute, only another minute, and — but it won't bear
thinking on."
" Forgive me, Tom," said the penitent joker; "I never was so
near a corpse afore. If I didn't think the shots were clean through
me, and that's flat."
" Sich jokes," said Tom, " is onpardonable, and you must be
mad." " I confess I'm ' out of my head,' Tom," said Jim, who was dang-
14

106 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
ling the huge mask in his hand, and fast recovering from the effects
of his fright. " Depend on it, I won't put myself in such a pre
dicament agam, Tom. No, no — no more playing the devil ; for,
egad ! you had liked to have played the devil with me."
" A joke's a joke," sagely remarked Tom, picking up his hat and
fowling piece.
"True!" replied Smith; "but, I think, after all, I had the
greatest cause for being in a fright. You had the best chance, at
any rate ; for I could not have harmed you, whereas, you might
have made a riddle of me."
" Stay, there !" answered Tom ; " I can tell you, you had as
little cause for fear as I had, if you come to that ; for the truth
is, the deuce a bit of powder or shot either was there in the
piece !"
" You don't say so !" said Jim, evidently disappointed and chop-4
fallen at this discovery of his groundless fears. "Well, I only
wish I'd known it, that's all !" — then, cogitating inwardly for a
minute, he continued—" but, I say, Tom, you won't mention this
little fright of yours ?"
" No ; but I'll mention the great fright — of Jim Smith — rely
upon it," said Tom, firmly; and he kept his word so faithfully that
the next day the whole story was circulated, with many ingenious
additions, to the great annoyance of the practical joker.

J-'uf/u/te/ iiv H7uli-/u, nt did at

yjalc.

re// it he sine Sir, tr nel irhm thenS ,,
yen red ee/ii/ thin,/ //rt. '
Id/, ,_, //,.,.' J7,,ls „-,, -ny itn,,;//.

¦am/ thi/U7 on i/aur lu-els, delit

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 107

FISHING FOR WHITING AT MARGATE.
" Here we go up — up — up ;
And here we go down — down — down."
" Variety," as Cowper says, " is the very spice of life — and
certainly at Margate there is enough in all conscience to delight
the most fastidious of pleasure-hunters.
There, sailors ply for passengers for a trip in their pleasure
boats, setting forth all the tempting delights of a fine breeze —
and woe betide the unfortunate cockney who gets in the clutches
of a pair of flyers of this sort, for he becomes as fixed as if. he
were actually in a vice, frequently making a virtue of necessity,
and stepping on board, when he had much better stroll on land.
Away he goes, on the wings of the wind, like— a gull ! —
.Should he be a knave, it may probably be of infinite service to
society, for.he is likely ever afterwards to forswear craft of any kind !
Donkeys too abound, as they do in most watering places — and
oh ! what a many asses have we seen mounted, trotting along the
beach and cliffs !
The insinuating address of the boatmen is, however irresistible;
and if they cannot induce you to make a sail to catch the wind,
they will set forth, in all the glowing colours of a dying dolphin,
the pleasurable sport of catching fish !
They tell you of a gentleman, who, the other day, pulled up in
a single hour, I don't know how many fish, weighing I don't know
how much. And thus baited, some unwise gentleman unfor
tunately nibbles, and he is caught. A bargain is struck, ' the
boat is on the shore,' the lines and hooks are displayed, and the
victim steps in, scarcely conscious of what he is about, but full
well knowing that he is going to sea ! ,
They put out to sea, and casting their baited hooks, the expe
rienced fisherman soon pulls up a fine lively whiting.
14—2

108 Seymour's sketches.
" Ecod !" exclaims the cockney, with dilated optics, " this is
fine — why that 'ere fish is worth a matter of a shilling in London.
— Do tell me how you cotched him."
" With a hook !" replied the boatman.
" To be sure you did — but why didn't he bite mine ?"
" 'Cause he came t'other side, I s'pose."
" Veil, let me try that side then," cries the tyro, and carefully
changes his position. — " Dear me, this here boat o' yourn wobbles
about rayther, mister."
" Nothing, sir, at all ; it's only the motion of the water."
" I don't like it tho', I can tell you ; it makes me feel all over
somehow." " It will go off, sir, in time ; there's another," and he pulls in
another wriggling fish, and casts him at the bottom of the boat.
" Well, that's plaguey tiresome, anyhow — two ! and I've cotched
nothin' yet — how do you do it ?"
" Just so — throw in your hook, and bide a bit — and you'll be
sure, sir, to feel when there's anything on your hook ; don't you
feel anything yet ?"
" Why, yes, I feels werry unwell !" cries the landsman ; and
bringing up his hook and bait, requests the good-natured boat
man to pull for shore, ' like vinkin,' — which request the obliging
fellow immediately complies with, having agreeably fished at the
expense of his fare ; and landing his whitings and the flat, laughs
in his sleeve at the qualms of his customer.
But there is always an abundant crop of such fools as he, who
pretend to dabble in a science, in utter ignorance of the elements ;
while, like Jason of old, the wily boatman finds a sheep with a
golden fleece, — although his brains are always too much on the
alert to be what is technically termed — wool-gathering. Some
people are desirous of seeing every thing ; and many landsmen
have yet to learn, that they may see a deal, without being
a,-board !

ii1,-.

Tom, set open, the hroor qnd, 'vm&ar an,cl let, the rmqlibovTS.
sineU ve lure remetfaoo reijjecbddr for o/ue

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 109

ANDREW MULLINS.
An Autobiography.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
There is certainly no style of writing requiring so much modest
assurance as autobiography; a position which, I am confident,
neither Lord Cherbury, nor Vidocq, or any other mortal blessed
with an equal development of the organ of self-esteem, can or
could deny.
Home ("sweet home,") — in his Douglas — gives, perhaps, one
of the most concise and concentrated specimens extant, of this
species of composition. With what an imposing air does his
youthful hero blow his own trumpet in those well-known lines,
commencing, " My name is Norval."
Although a mere cock-boat in comparison with these first-rates,
I think I may safely follow in their wake. Should the critics
however, condescend to carp at. me for likening myself to a cock
boat, I have no objection, if by a twist of their ingenuity, they
can prove me to be a little funny !
Economy was one of the most prominent characteristics of the
family from which I sprang. Now, some authors would weary
their indulgent readers with a flatulent chapter upon the moral
beauty of this virtue ; but as my first wish is to win favour by my
candour, I must honestly confess, that necessity was the parent of
this lean attenuated offspring ! — For, alas !
My ' angel mother,' (as Anna Maria phrases it) was a woman

110 Seymour's sketches.
of ten thousand, for she dwelt in one of the most populous
districts of London ! My sire was of the most noble order of
St. Crispin ; and though he had many faults, he was continually
mending — being the most eminent cobbler in the neighbourhood.
Even in the outset of their connubial partnership, they started
under the most favourable auspices — for, whereas other couples
marry for love or money, they got married for ' nothing,' — taking
advantage of the annual gratuitous splicings performed at Shore-
ditch Church on one sunshiny Easter Monday.
In less than three years my amiable mother presented her lord
and master with as many interesting pledges of their affection—
I was the cobbler's last — and
' Though last not least in tiieir dear love.'

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. Ill
ANDREW MULLINS.
Continued.
CHAPTER II.
OUR LODGING.
Our precarious means were too small to permit us to rent a
house, we therefore rented one large room, which served us
for — ' Parlour, and kitchen, and all !'
in the uppermost story of a house, containing about a dozen
families. 'This ' airy ' apartment was situated in a narrow alley of a great
thoroughfare in the heart of the great metropolis.
The lower part of this domicile was occupied by one James,
who did ' porter's work,' while his wife superintended the trade
of a miscellaneous store, called a greengrocer's; although the
stock comprised, besides a respectable show of cabbages, carrots,
lettuces, and other things in season, a barrel of small beer, a side
of bacon, a few red herrings, a black-looking can of ' new milk,'
and those less perishable articles, Warren's blacking and Flander's
bricks ; while the window was graced with a few samples of com
mon confectionery, celebrated under the sweet names of lollypops,
Bonaparte's ribs, and bulls'-eyes.
In one pane, by permission, was placed the sign board of my
honoured parent, informing the reading public, that
' Repairs were neatly executed !'
' In my mind's eye ' how distinctly do I behold that humble
shop in all the ' greenness ' and beauty of its Saturday morning's
display. Nor can I ever forget the kind, dumpy, motherly Mrs. James,

112 Seymour's sketches.
who so often patted my curly head, and presented me with a
welcome slice of bread and butter, and a drink of milk, invariably
repeating in her homely phrase, "a child and a chicken is al'ays
a pickin "'-¦-and declaring her belief that the 'brat' got scarcely
enough to " keep life and soul together "—the real truth of which
my craving stomach inwardly testified.
Talk of the charities ofthe wealthy, they are as 'airy nothings'
in the scale, compared with the unostentatious sympathy of the
poor ! The former only give a portion of their excess, while the
latter willingly divide their humble crust with a fellow sufferer.
The agreeable routine of breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper, was
unknown in our frugal establishment ; if we obtained one good
meal a day, under any name, we were truly thankful.
To give some idea of our straightened circumstances, I must
relate one solitary instance of display on the maternal side. It
was on a Saturday night, the air and our appetites were equally
keen, when my sire, having unexpectedly touched a small sum,
brought home a couple of pound of real Epping. A scream of
delight welcomed the savory morsel.
A fire was kindled, and the meat was presently hissing in the
borrowed frying-pan of our landlady.
I was already in bed, when the unusual sound and savour awoke
me. I rolled out in a twinkling, and squatting on the floor,
watched the culinary operations with greedy eyes.
" Tom," said my mother, addressing her spouse, " set open the
door and vinder, and let the neighbours smell ve has somethin'
respectable for once."

57

I vwlL-rcL TAe to shoot T^r exactly hid Iv*
a. lies seal food, irwuL to ttmvl^r out .

Seymour's sketches. 113

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER III.
ON temperance.
Armed with the authority and example of loyalty, for even that
renowned monarch — Old King Cole — was diurnally wont to call
for " His pipe and his glass,"—
and induced by the poetical strains of many a bard, from the
classic Anacreon to those of more modern times, who have cele
brated the virtue of " Wine, mighty wine !" —
it is not to be marvelled at, that men's minds have fallen victims
to the fascinations of the juice of the purple grape, or yielded to
, the alluring temptations of the " evil spirit."
It is a' lamentable truth, that notwithstanding the laudable and
wholesome exertions and admonitions of the Temperance and
Teetotal Societies, that the people of the United Kingdom are
grievously addicted to an excessive imbibation of spirituous
liquors, cordials, and compounds.
Although six-bottle men are now regarded as monstrosities,
and drinking parties are nearly exploded, tippling and dram-
drinking among the lower orders are perhaps more indulged in
than ever.
The gilded and gorgeous temples— devoted to the worship of
the reeling goddess Geneva — blaze forth in every quarter of the
vast metropolis.
Is it matter of wonder, then, that while men of superior intel
lect and education are still weak enough to seek excitement in
vinous potations, that .the vulgar, poor, and destitute, should
endeavour to drown their sorrows by swallowing the liquid fires
displayed under various names, by the wily priests of Silenus !
That such a deduction is illogical we are well aware, but great
examples are plausible excuses to little minds.
Both my parents were naturally inclined to sobriety ; but, un
fortunately, and as it too frequently happens, in low and crowded
neighbourhoods, drunkenness is as contagious as the small-pox, or
any other destructive malady. 15

114 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Now, it chanced that in the first-floor of the house in which
we dwelt, there also resided one Stubbs and his wife. They had
neither chick nor child. Stubbs was a tailor by trade, and being
a first-rate workman, earned weekly a considerable sum; but,
like too many of his fraternity, he was seldom sober from Satur
day night until Wednesday morning. His loving spouse " rowed
in the same boat"— and the "little green bottle" was dispatched
several times during the days of their Saturnalia, to be re
plenished at the never-failing fountain of the " Shepherd and
Flock." Unhappily, in one- of her maudlin fits, Mrs. Stubbs took a par
ticular fancy to my mother ; and one day, in the absence of the
" ninth," beckoned my unsuspecting parent into her sitting-room,
and after gratuitously imparting to her the hum-drum history of
her domestic squabbles, invited her to take a " drop o' summat"
to keep up her " sperrits."
Alas ! this was the first step — and she went on, and on, and
on, until that which at first she loathed became no longer dis
agreeable, and by degrees grew into a craving that was irresisti
ble ; and at last, she regularly " hob-and-nobb'd" with the discon
solate rib of Stubbs, and shared alike in all her troubles and her
liquor. Fain would I draw a veil over this frailty of my unfortunate
parent, but, being conscious that veracity is the very soul and
essence of history, I feel myself imperatively called- upon neither
to disguise nor to cancel the truth.
My father remonstrated in vain — the passion had already taken
too deep a hold ; and one day he was suddenly summoned from
his work with the startling information, that " Mother Mullins" —
(so the kind neighbour phrased it) was sitting on the step of a
public house, in the suburbs, completely " tosticated."
He rushed out, and found the tale too true. A bricklayer in
the neighbourhood proposed the loan of his barrow, for the poor
senseless creature could not walk a step. Placing her in the one-
wheel-carriage, he made the best of his way home, amid the jeers
of the multitude. Moorfields was then only partially covered
with houses ; and as he passed a deep hollow, on the side of
which was placed a notice, intimating that
"RUBBISH MAY BE SHOT HERE!"
his eyes caught the words, and in the bitterness of his heart he
exclaimed —
" I wouldn't like to shoot her exactly ; but I've a blessed mind
to turn her out !"

58

I s-.ui. Terra

srnde'.rs To

¦ire
¦ ¦e. I

i est lilt,

SEYMOUR S SKETCHES.

115

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER IV.
A SITUATION.
In the vicinity of our alley were numerous horse-rides, and my
chief delight was being entrusted with a horse, and galloping up
and down the straw-littered avenue. — I was about twelve years
of age, and what was termed a sharp lad, and I soon became a
great favourite with the ostlers, who admired the aptness with
which I acquired the language of the stables.
There were many stock-brokers who put up at the ride ; among
others was Mr. Timmis — familiarly called-Long Jim Timmis. He
was a bold, dashing, good-humoured, vulgar man, who was quite
at home with the ostlers, generally conversing with them in their
favourite lingo.
I had frequent opportunities of showing him civilities, handing
him his whip, and holding his stirrup, &c.
One day he came to the ride in a most amiable and condescend
ing humour, and for the first time, deigned to address me —
" Whose hid are you ?" demanded he.
"Father's, sir," I replied.
" Do you know your father, then ?"
" Yes, sir."
" A wise child this ;" and he winked at the ostler, who, of course,
laughed incontinently.
" I want a lad," continued he ; " what do you say — would you
like to serve me ?"
" If I could get anything by it."
"D  me, if that ain't blunt."
" Yes, sir, that's what I mean."
" Mean ! mean what ?"
" If I could get any blunt, sir."
Hereupon he laughed outright at what he considered my readi-
15—2

116 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
ness, although I merely used the cant term for "money," to which
I was most accustomed, from my education among the school
masters of the ride.
" Here, take my card," said he ; and tell the old codger, your
father, to bring you to my office to-morrow morning, at eleven."
" Well blow me," exclaimed my friend the ostler, " if your for-
tin' arn't made ; I shall see you a tip-top sawyer — may I never
touch another tanner ! Vy, I remembers James Timmis hisself vos
nothin but a grubby boy — Mother Timmis the washer-woman's
son, here in what-d'ye-call-'em court — ven he vent to old Jarvis
fust. He's a prime feller tho' and no mistake — and thof he's no
gentleman born, he pays like one, and vot's the difference ?"
The next morning, punctual to the hour, I waited at his office
whieh was in a large building adjoining the Stock Exchange, as
full as a dove-cot with gentlemen of the same feather.
"OT said he, eyeing my parent, " and you're this chap's father
are you ? What are you V
' A boot and shoe-maker, sir: and my Andrew is an honest lad."
'¦' For the matter o' that, there's little he can prig here ;" replied
my elegant and intended master. " But his togs — eh — old fellow
can't yon rig him out a little ?"'
My father pleaded poverty ; and at last he bargained to advance
a guinea, and deduct it out of my weekly wages of two-and six
pence ail no board. My father was glad to make any terms, and
the affair was consequently soon arranged. I was quickly fitted
out, and the next morning attended his orders.
I had, however, httle else to do than wait in his office, and run
to the Stock Exchange, to summon bim when a customer dropped
in. I had much leisure, which I trust was not wholly thrown
away, for I practised writing on the back of the stock-receipts, of
which a quantity hung up in the office, and read all the books I
could lay my hands on ; although, I must confess, the chief portion
of my knowledge of the world has been derived from observation
" The proper study of mankind is man,"
Although quick in temper, and rude in speech and manners,
Timmis was kind ; and if he had a failing, it was the ambition of
being a patron ; and he was certainly not one of those who do a
sood deed, and " Blushed to find it fame."
He not only employed my father to make his boots, but recom-

ANDREW MULLINS. 117
mended him to all his friends as a " good fit," and procured the
old man some excellent customers. Among his acquaintance, for
he had few friends, was Tom Wallis, a fat, facetious man, about
forty, with whom he was always lunching and cracking his jokes.
One day when the stocks were " shut " and business was slack,
they started together on a sporting excursion towards the roman
tic region of Hornsey-wood, on which occasion I had the honour
of carrying a well-filled basket of provisions, and the inward sa
tisfaction of making a good dinner from the remnants.
They killed nothing but time, yet they were exceedingly merry,
especially during the discussion of the provisions. Their laughter
indeed, was enough to scare all the birds in the neighbourhood.
" Jim, if you wanted to correct those sheep yonder," said Tom,
" what sort of tool would you use ?"
" An ewe-twig, of course," replied my master.
" No ; that's devilish good," said Wallis, " but you ain't hit it
yet." " For a crown you don't do a better ?"
" Done !"
"WeU, what is it?"
" Why, a RAM-rod to be sure — as we're sportsmen."
My master agreed that it was more appropriate, and the good-
natured Tom Wallis flung the crown he had won to me.
" Here's another," continued he, as Mr. Timmis was just raising
a bottle of pale sherry to his lips — " I say, Jim, what birds are we
most like now ?"
" Why swallows, to be sure," quickly rephed my patron ; who
was really, on most occasions, a match for his croney in the
sublime art of punning and making conundrums, a favourite pas
time with the wits of the Stock Exchange.

118 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER V.
THE STALKING-HORSE.
On the same landing where Timmis (as he termed it) ' held out,'
were five or six closets nick-named offices, and three other boys.
One was the nephew of the before-mentioned WaUis, and a very
imp- of mischief; another only a boy, with nothing remarkable
but his stupidity; while the fourth was a scrubby, stunted fellow,
about sixteen or seventeen years of age, with a long pale face,
deeply pitted with the small-pox, and an irregular crop of light
hair, most unscientifically cut into tufts.
He, by reason of his seniority and his gravity, soon became the
oracle of the party. We usually found him seated on the stairs
of the first floor, lost in the perusal of some ragged book of the
marveUous school — scraps of which he used to read aloud to us,
with more unction than propriety, indulging rather too much in
the note of admiration style ; for whicli he soon obtained the
name of Old Emphatic ! — But I must confess we did obtain a
great deal of information from his select reading, and were
tolerably good listeners too, notwithstanding his peculiar delivery,
for somehow he appeared to have a permanent cold in his head,
which sometimes threw a tone of irresistible ridicule into his
most pathetic ' bits.'
He bore the scriptural name of Matthew, and was, as he in
formed us, a ' horphan ' — adding with a particular pathos, ' with
out father or mother!' His melancholy was, I think, rather
attributable to bile than destitution, which he superinduced by
feeding almost entirely on ' second-hand pastry,' purchased from
the little Jew-boys, who hawk about their ' tempting ' trash in
the vicinity of the Bank.
Matthew, like other youths of a poetical temperament, from
Petrarch down to Lord Byron, had a ' passion.'
I accidentally discovered the object of his platonic flame in the

59

./i Stancbig JLcrsc
Cli hnc's sich u, yhmaiuj imr, ileia yev, Tlcoj- lie-ie drs rui^uiy

ANDREW MULLINS. 119
person of the little grubby-girl — the servant of the house-keeper
— for, as the proverb truly says,
" Love and a cough cannot be hid."
The tender passion first evinced itself in his delicate attentions ;
—nor was the quick-eyed maid slow to discover her conquest.
Her penetration, however, was greater than her sympathy.
With a tact that would not have disgraced a politician — in a
better cause, — she adroitly turned 'the swelling current of his
love ' to her own purposes.
As the onward flowing stream is made to turn the wheel,
while the miller sings at the window, so did she avail herself of
his strength to do her work, while she gaily hummed a tune, and
sadly ' hummed ' poor Mathew.
There being nearly thirty offices in the building, there were of
course in winter as many fires, and as many coal-scuttles required.
When the eyes ofthe devoted Matthew gazed on the object of his
heart's desire toiling up the weU-stair, he felt he knew not what ;
and, with a heart palpitating with the apprehension that his
proffered service might be rejected (poor deluded mortal !) he
begged he might assist her. With a glance that he thought
sufficient to ignite the insensible carbon, she accepted his offer.
Happy Matthew ; — he grasped the handles her warm red-hands
had touched! — Cold-blooded, unimaginative beings may deride
his enthusiasm ; but after all, the sentiment he experienced was
similar to, and quite as pure, as that of Tom Jones, when he
fondled Sophia Western's little muff.
But, alas ! —
" The course of true love never did run smooth."
Two months after this event, 'his Mary' married the baker's
man ! — *******
Wallis's nephew had several times invited me to pay him a
visit at his uncle's house, at Crouchend; and so once, during
the absence of that gentleman who was ruralizing at Tonbridge,
I trudged down to his villa.
Nothing would suit Master John, but that he must ' have out '
his uncle's gun ; and we certainly shot_ at, and frightened, many
sparrows.

120 Seymour's sketches.
He was just pointing at a fresh quarry, when the loud crow of
a cock arrested his arm.
" That's Doddington's game 'un, I know," said Master John.
"What d'ye think — if he didn't 'pitch into' our 'dunghill' the
other day, and laid him dead at a blow. I owe him one ! — Come
along." I foUowed in his footsteps, and soon beheld chanticleer
crowing with all the ostentation of a victor at the hens he had
so ruthlessly widowed. A clothes-horse, with a ragged blanket,
screened us from his view; and Master John, putting 'the muzzle
of his gun through a hole in this novel ambuscade, discharged its
contents point blank into the proclaimer of the morn — and laid
him low.
I trembled ; for I felt that we had committed a 'foul murder.'
Master Johnny, however, derided my fears — called it retri
butive justice — and ignominiously consigned the remains of a
game-cock to a, dunghiU !
The affair appeared so like a cowardly assassination, in which
I was (though unwillingly — ) ' particeps criminis ' — that I walked
away without partaking of the gooseberry-pie, which he had pro-'
vided for our supper.

Oc-h, thin,, -Paddy, rvhats the, botheration,, if you carry me ?
doriz J carry the, whxirhey, sure,, and, Dials fair and, equal

Seymour's sketches, 121
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER VI.
A COMMISSION.
I WAS early at my post on the foUowing morning, being parti
cularly anxious to meet with Mr. Wallis's scapegrace nephew,
and ascertain whether anybody had found the dead body of the
game-cock, and whether an inquest had been held ; for I knew
enough of the world to draw my own conclusions as to the result.
He, although the principal, being a relative, would get off with a
lecture, while I should probably be kicked out of my place.
In a fever of expectation, I hung over the banisters of the
geometrical staircase, watching for his arrival.
While I was thus occupied, my nerves'" screwed up," — almost
to cracking, Mr. Wallis's office-door was thrown open, and I
beheld that very gentleman's round, pleasant physiognomy, em
browned by hi3 travels, staring me full in the face. I really lost
my equilibrium at the apparition.
" Oh !— it's you, is it ?" cried he. " Where's my rascal. ?"
" He's not come yet, sir," I replied.
"That feUow's never at hand when I want Mm — TR cashier
him by— — ." He slammed to his own door, and — ojiened it
again immediately.
" Timmis come ?" demanded he.
"No, sir; I don't think he'U be here for an hour."
" True — I'm early in the field ; but what brings you here so
soon ?— Some mischief, I suppose."
" I'm always early, sir, for I Uve hard bv."
" Ha !— weU— I wish  "
" Can I do anything for you, sir ?" I enquired.
" Why, that's a good thought," said he, and his countenance
assumed its usuaUy bland expression. " Let me see — I want to
send my carpet-bag, and a message, to my housekeeper."
" I can do it, sir, and be back again in no time," cried I, elated
at having an opportunity of obliging the man whom I had reaUy
some cause to fear, in the critical situation in wliich his nephew's
thoughtlessness had placed me.
In my eagerness, however, and notwithstanding the poUtieal
acuteness of my manoeuvre, I got myself into an awful dilemma.
Having received the bag, and his message, I walked off, but had
scarcely descended a dozen stairs when he recaUed me.
"Where the devil are you going?" cried he.
" To your house, sir," I innocently replied.
" What, do you know it, then ?" demanded he in surprise. 1G

122 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Here was a position. It was a miracle that I did not roU over
the carpet-bag and break my neck, in the confusion of ideas en
gendered by this simple query.
I could not lie, and evasion was not my forte. A man or boy
in the wrong can never express himself with propriety ; an opinion
in which Quinctilian also appears to coincide, when he asserts —
" Orator perfectus nisi vir bonus esse non potest."
I therefore summoned up sufficient breath and courage to answer
him in the affirmative.
" And when, pray, were you there ?" said. he.
" Yesterday, sir, your nephew asked me to come and see him."
" The impudent little blackguard !" cried he.
" I hope you ain't angry, sir ?"
" Angry with you ?— no, my lad ; you're an active little chap,
and I wish that imp of mine would take a pattern by you. Trot
along, and mind you have ' a lift' both ways."
Off I went as light as a balloon when the ropes are cut.
I executed my commission with dispatch, and completely won
the favour of Mr. Wallis, by returning the money which he had
given me for coach-hire.
" How's this ? — you didn't tramp, did you ?" said he.
"No, sir, I rode both ways," I replied; "but I knew the coach
men, and they gave me a cast for nothing."
" Umph ! — well, that's quite proper — quite proper," said he,
considering a moment. " Honesty's the best policy."
'' Father always told me. so, sir."
" Your father's right ; — there's half-a-crown for you."
I was delighted —
" Quantum cedat virtutibus aurum ; "
and I felt the truth of this line of Dr. Johnson's, although I was
then ignorant of it. I met his nephew on the landing, but my
fears had vanished. We talked, however, of the departed bird,
and he wished me, in the event of discovery, to declare that I
had loaded and carried the gun, and that he would bear the rest
of the blame.
This, however, strongly reminded me of the two Irish smug
glers : — one had a wooden leg, and carried the cask ; while his
comrade, who had the use of both his pins, bore him upon his
shoulders, and, complaining of the weight, the other replied : —
" Och ! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration ; if you carry me,
don't I carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual ?" and
I at once declined any such Hibernian partnership in the affair,
quite resolved that he should bear the whole onus upon his own
shoulders.

61

Out'
So dorut fatigue yourself, I lea, sir ?

SKETCHES. 123
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER VII.
THE- CRICKET MATCH.
I SOON discovered that my conduct had been reported in the most
favourable colours to Mr. Timmis, and the consequence was, that
he began to take more notice of me.
"Andrew, what sort of a fist can you write ?" demanded he,
I shewed him some caligraphic specimens.
" D— me, if your y's and your g's hav'n't tails like skipping-
ropes. We must have a Httle topping and tailing here, and I
think you'll do. Here, make out this account, and enter it in the
book." He left me to do his bidding ; and when he returned from the
Stock-Exchange, inspected the performance, which I had exe
cuted with perspiring ardour.
I watched his countenance. " That'll do — you're a brick ! —
I'll make a man of you — d — me."
From this day forward I had the honour of keeping his books,
and making out the accounts. I was already a person of im
portance, and certainly some steps above the boys on the
landing. I did not, however, obtain any advance in my weekly wages ;
but on " good days " got a douceur, varying from half-a-crown to
half-a-sovereign ! and looked upon myself as a made man. Most
of the receipts went to my father ; whatever he returned to me I
spent "at a neighbouring book-stall, and in the course of twelve
months I possessed a library of most amusing and instructive
literature, — Heaven knows ! of a most miscellaneous character,
for I had no one to guide me in the selection.
Among Mr. Timmis's numerous clients, was one, Mr. Cornelius
Crobble, a man of most extraordinary dimensions ; he was also a
" chum " of, and frequently made one of a party with his friend
Mr. Wallis, and other cronies, to whitebait dinners at Blackwall,
and other intellectual banquets. In fact, he seldom made his
appearance at the office, but the visit ended in an engagement to
dine at some "crack-house" or other. The cost of the "feed,"
as Mr. Timmis termed it, was generally decided by a toss of
" best two and three ;" and somehow it invariably happened that
Mr. Crobble lost ; but he was so good-humoured, that really it
was a pleasure, as Mr. Wallis said, to " grub " at his expense.
They nick-named him Maximo Eotundo — and he well deserved
the title.
16—2

124 _ SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
" Where's Timmis ?" said he, one day after he had taken a
seat and puffed and Mowed for the space of five minutes — " Cuss
them stairs : they'll be the death o' me."
I ran to summon my master.
"How are you, old fellow ?" demanded Mr. Timmis; "tip us
your fin."
" Queer !" replied Mr. Crobble, — tapping his breast gently
with his fat fist, and puffing out his cheeks — to indicate that his
lungs were disordered.
" What, bellows to mend ?" cried my accomplished patron —
" D — me, never say die !"
" Just come from Doctor Sprawles : says I must take exercise ;
no malt liquor — nothing at breakfast — no lunch — no supper."
" Why, you'll be a skeleton — a transfer from the consolidated
to the reduced, in no time," exclaimed Mr. Timmis ; and his
friend joined in the laugh. .
" I was thinking, Timmis — don't you belong to a cricket-
club?" " To be sure."
— " Of joining you."
" That's the ticket," cried Timmis — " consider yourself elected;
I can carry any thing there. " I'm quite the cock of the walk, .
and no mistake. Next Thursday's a field-day — I'll introduce you.
Lord ! you'll soon be right as a trivet."
Mr. Wallis was summoned, and the affair was soon arranged ;
and I had the gratification of being present at Mr. Crobblc's
inauguration. It was a broiling day, and there was a full field ; but he con
ducted himself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club.
He batted exceedingly well, " considering," as Mr. Wallis re
marked ; but as for the " runs," he was completely at fault.
He only attempted it once ; but before he had advanced a yard
or two, the ball was caught; and the agile player striking the
wicket with ease, exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators
¦ — " Out ! so don't fatigue yourself, I beg, sir."
And so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting,
in which the rotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily.

62

lie, nine men; l, s/,rr/, hit J 'in, eJcss',1 if ifs pleasure
¦J7ds mfernal h, rs, /-,if abides fern! ei shumo, Sr ot»
lie's coin a te slui me eft'

Seymour's sketches. 125
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE HUNTER.
Two days after the cricket-match, Mr. Crobble paid a visit to my
master. "Well, old fellow, d— me if you ain't a trump — how's your
wind ?" — kindly enquired Mr. Timmis.
" Vastly better, thank 'ye ; how's WaUace and the other fellows ?
— prime sport that cricketing."
" Yes ; but, I say, you'U never have ' a run ' of luck if you stick
to the wicket so."
" True ; but I made a hit or two, you must allow," replied Mr.
Crobble ; " though I'm afraid I'm a sorry member."
" A member, indeed !— no, no ; you're the body, and we're the
members," replied Mr. Timmis, laughing ; " but, halloo ; what's
that patch on your forehead — bin a fighting ?"
" No ; but I've been a hunting," said Mr. Crobble, " and this
here's the fruits — You know my gray ?"
" The nag you swopp'd the bay roadster for with Tom Brown ?"
" Him," answered Crobble. " Well, I took him to Hertfordshire
Wednesday last  "
" He took you, you mean."
"Well, what's the odds?"
"The odds, why, in your favour, to be sure, as I dare say the
horse can witness."
" Well, howsomever, there was a good field — and off we went.
The level country was all prime ; but he took a hedge, and nearly
julked all the life out o' me. I lost my stirrup, and should have
lost my seat, hadn't I clutched his mane — '
" And kept, your seat by main force ?"
'• Very good."
" Well, away we went, like Johnny Gilpin. Hunting may be
sport, says I, but I'm blest if it's pleasure. This infernal horse
Was always fond of shying, and now he's going to shy me off; and,

126 Seymour's sketches.
ecod ! no sooner said than done. Over his head I go, like a
rocket." " Like a foot-ball, you mean," interrupted Mr. Timmis.
" And, as luck would have it, tumbled into a ditch, plump !
with my head agin the bank."
" By jingo ! such a ' run ' upon the bank was enough to break
it," cried my master, whose propensity to crack a joke overcame
all feeling of sympathy for his friend.
" It broke riiy head though ; and warn't I in a precious mess —
that's all — up to my neck, and no mistake — and black as a chim
ney-sweep — such mud !"
" And only think of a man of your property investing his sub
stance in mud ! That is a good 'un ! — Andrew," said he, " tell
Watty to come here." I summoned his crony, and sat myself
down to the books, to enjoy the sportive sallies of the two friends,
who roasted the 'fat buck,' their loving companion, most un
mercifully. "You sly old badger," cried Wallis, "why, you must have
picked out the ditch."
" No, but they picked out me, and a precious figure I cut — I
can tell you — I was dripping from top to toe."
" Very like dripping, indeed !" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, eyeing
his fat friend, and bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter.
The meeting ended, as usual, with a bet for a dinner at the
" Plough " for themselves and their friends, which Mr. Crobble
lost — as usual.

63

TO jiE ?OLD. inoeeoded strand, J idev J<hrc ecru test, asruh
,-arnes j, lady Wcc^e a Bay Coh tfm* to ruU or ^^

7ul< denied, ¦<- ImJjj

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 127
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER IX.
A ROW TO BLACKWALL.
Steam-boats did not run to Greenwich and Blackwall at this
period ; and those who resorted to the white-bait establishments
at those places, either availed themselves of a coach or a boat.
Being now transformed, by a little personal merit, and a great
favour, from a full-grown errand-boy to a small clerk, Mr. Timmis
at the suggestion of my good friend, Mr. Wallis, offered me, as a
treat, a row in the boat they had engaged for the occasion ; which,
as a matter of course, I did not refuse : making myself as spruce
as my limited wardrobe would, permit, I trotted at their heels to
the foot of London-bridge, the point of embarkation.
The party, including the boatman, consisted of eight souls ; the
tide was in our favour, and away we went, as merry a company
as ever floated on the bosom of -Father Thames. Mr. Crobble was
the chief mark' for all their sallies, and indeed he really appeared,
from his size, to have been intended by Nature for a " butt" as
Mr. Wallis wickedly remarked.
"You told me, Crobble, of your hunting exploit in Hertford
shire," said Mr. Wallis ; " I'll tell you something as bangs that
hollow; I'm sure I thought I should have split with laughter
when I heard of it. You know the old frump, my Aunt Betty
Timmis ?"
" To be sure— she with the ten thousand in the threes," re
phed Mr. Timmis; "a worthy creature; and I am sure you
admire her principal."
" Don't I," cried WaUis ; and he winked significantly at his
friend. " WeU, what d'ye think ; she, and Miss Scragg, her toady, were
in the country t'other day, and must needs amuse themselves in
an airing upon a couple of prads.
" Well ; they were cantering along— doing the handsome— and
had just come to the border of a pond, when* a donkey pops his
innocent nose over a fence in their rear, and began to ' heehaw' in
a most melodious strain. The nags pricked up their ears in a

128 Seymour's sketches.
twinkling, and made no more ado but bolted. Poor aunty
tugged ! but all in vain ; her bay-cob ran into the water ; and
she lost both her presence of mind and her seat, and plumped
swash into the pond — her riding habit spreading out into a beau
tiful circle — whfie she lay squalling and bawling out in the
centre, like a little piece of beef in the middle of a large batter-
pudding ! Miss Scragg, meanwhile, stuck to her gray-mare, and
went bumping along to the admiration of all beholders, and was
soon out of sight : luckily a joskin, who witnessed my dear aunt's
immersion, ran to her assistance, and, with the help of his pitch
fork, safely landed her; for unfortunately the pond was not
above three or four feet deep ! and so she missed the 'chance of
being an angel !"
" And you the transfer of her threes ! — what a pity !" said the
sympathizing Mr. Timmis.
" When I heard of the accident, of course, as in duty bound, I
wrote an anxious letter of affectionate enquiry and condolence.
At the same period, seeing an advertisement in the Times — ' To
be sold, warranted sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a
lady; likewise a bay- cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried
a lady' — I was so tickled with the coincidence., that I cut it out,
and sent it to her in an envelope."
" Prime ! by Jove !"— shouted Mr. Crobble—" But, I say, Wallis
— you should have sent her a 'duck' too, as a symbolical me
morial of her accident !"

64

3F?^~ \

A Pic-fSic
¦ '¦ lan'es. dure*- *«W ¦n.isto en K elidr:
i'h de.nr. Hi Jt\tr. dure yec'j his dr' ir,.:e
h ai'e jie :.:¦

' f7 crer evr azroxerj
tiu' ewrant crn.l rasp-

Seymour's sketches. 129
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER X.
THE PIC-NIC.
" People shoidd never undertake to do a thing they don't per
fectly understand," remarked Mr. Crobble ; " they're sure to make
fools o' themselves in the end. There's Tom Davis, (you know
Tom Davis ?) he's always putting his notions into people's heads;
and turning the laugh against 'em. If there's a ditch in the way,
he's sure to dare some of his companions to leap it, before he overs
it himself; if he finds it safe, away he springs like a grey
hound." '' Exactly him, I know him," replied Mr. Timmis ; " that's what
he calls learning to shave npon other people's chins l'\
" Excellent !" exclaimed Mr. Wallis.
" He's a very devil," continued Mr. Crobble ; " always propos
ing some fun or other : Pic-nics are his delight ; but he always
leaves others to bring the grub, and brings nothing but himself.
I hate Pic-nics, squatting on the grass don't suit me at all ; when
once down, I find it no easy matter to get up again, I can tell
you." Hereupon there was a general laugh.
"Talking of Pic-nics,'' said Mr. Timmis, "reminds me of one
that was held the other day in a meadow, on the banks of the
Lea. The party, consisting of ladies only, and a little boy, had
just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were
alarmed by the approach of a cow. They were presently on their
pins, (cow'd, of course), and sheered off to a respectful distance,
whUe the cow walked leisurely over the table-cloth, smelling the
materials of the feast, and popped her cloven foot plump into a
currant and raspbeny pie ! and they had a precious deal of
trouble to draw her off ; for, as Tom Davis said, there were some
tvecrf-patties there, which were, no doubt, made out of one of her
calves ; and in her maternal solicitude, she completely demolished
the plates and disheSj leaving the affrighted party nothing more
than the broken victuals." 17

130 Seymour's sketches.
" What a lark !" exclaimed Mr. Crobble ; " I would have given
a guinea to have witnessed the fun. That cow was a Trojan !"
" A star in the mfiky way," cried Mr. Wallis.
We now approached the ' Plough ;' and Mr. Crobble having
' satisfied ' the boatmen, Mr. WaUis gave me half-a-crown, and
bade me make the best of my way home. I pocketed the money,
and resolved to ' go on the highway ' and trudge on foot.
" Andrew," said my worthy patron, " now don't go and make a
beast of yourself, but walk straight home."
" Andrew," said Mr. WaUis, imitating his friend's tone of admo
nition; "if anybody asks you to treat 'em, bolt; if anybody
offers to treat you, retreat !"
" Andrew," said Mr. Crobble, who was determined to put in his
oar, and row in the same boat as his friends ; " Andrew," — " Yes,
sir ;" and I touched my hat with due respect, while his two friends
bent forward to catch his words. "Andrew," repeated he, for
the third time, "avoid evil communication, and get thee gone
from BlackwaU, as fast as your legs can carry you — for, there's
vUlainous bad company just landed here — wicked enough to spoil
even the immaculate Mr. CorneUus Crobble !"

Ctmlruj caul Sl&ermq
SUa- board'. Tom, Stafbtiardd
diie.Aqe, Starboard, U w.

Seymour's sketches. 131

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XI.
THE JOURNEY HOME.
I found myself quite in a strange land upon parting with my
master and his friends. It was war-time, and the place was
literaUy swarming with jack-tars.
Taking to the road, for the footway was quite crowded, I soon
reached Poplar. Here a large mob impeded my progress. They
appeared aU moved with extraordinary merriment. I soon dis
tinguished the objects of their mirth. Two sailors, mounted back
to back on a cart horse, were steering for Blackwall. A large
horse-cloth served them as a substitute for a saddle, and the merry
fellow behind held the reins : he was smoking a short pipe, while
his mate was making an observation with his spy-glass.
" Starboard, Tom, starboard !" cried the one in front.
" Aye, aye — starboard it is !" replied his companion, tugging at
the rein.
" HoUoo, messmate ! where are you bound ?" bawled a saUor in
the crowd.
" To the port o' Blackwall," replied the steersman. " But we're
going quite in the wind's eye, and I'm afeared we shan't make it
to-night." " A queer craft."
" Werry," replied Tom. " Don't answer the helm at aU."
" Any grog on board ?" demanded the sailor.
"Not enough to wet the boatswain's whistle; for d'ye see,
mate, there's no room for stowage."
" Shiver my timbers ! — no grog !" exclaimed the other ; " why,
you'U founder. If you don't spUce the main-brace, you'U not
make a knot an hour. Heave to — and let's drink success to the
voyage." " With aU my heart, mate, for I'm precious krank with tacking.
Larboard, Tom, larboard."
" Aye— aye — larboard it is."
17—2

132

SEYMOURS SKETCHES.

" Now, run her right into that 'ere spirit-shop to leeward, and
let's have a bowl."
Tom tugged away, and soon " brought up " at the door of a
wine-vaults. "Let go the anchor," exclaimed his messmate — "that's it —
coil up."
" Here, mate — here's a picter of his royal majesty" — giving the
sailor alongside a new guinea — "and now teUihe steward to mix
us a jorum as stiff as a nor'wester, and let's all drink the King's
health — God bless him."
"Hooray !" shouted the dehghted mob.
Their quondam friend soon did his bidding, bringing out a huge
china bowl filled with grog, which was handed round to every
soul within reach, and presently dispatched; — two others
followed, before they "weighed anchor and proceeded on their
voyage," cheered by the ragged multitude, among whom they
lavishly scattered their change ; and a most riotous and ridiculous
scramble it produced.
I was much pleased with the novelty of the scene, and escaped
from the crowd as quickly as I conveniently could, for I was
rather apprehensive of an attempt upon my pockets.
What strange beings are these saUors ! They have no care for
the morrow, but spend lavishly the hard-earned wages of their
adventurous life. To one like myself, who early knew the value
of money, this thoughtless extravagance certainly appeared unac
countable, and nearly allied to madness; but, when I reflected
that they are sometimes imprisoned in a ship for years, without
touching land, and frequently in peril of losing their lives — that
they have scarcely time to scatter their wages and prize-money
in the short intervals which chance offers them of mixing with
their fellow-men, my wonder changed to pity.
" A man in a ship," says Dr. Johnson, " is worse than a man in
a jan, for the latter has more room, better food, and commonly
better company, and is in safety."

/ ' shant fight with fistesses its mdgar ? hut If he.s amintl
fnr any thing Hke a. gemrrun, her&s my card!.' I

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 133
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XII.
MONSIEUR DUBOIS.
The love-lorn Matthew had departed, no doubt unable to bear
the sight of that staircase whose boards no longer resounded with
the slip-slap of the slippers of that hypocritical beauty, "his
Mary." With him, the romance of the landing-place and the
squad had evaporated ; and I had no sympathies, no pursuits, in
common with the remaining "boys" — my newly-acquired post,
too, nearly occupied the whole of my time, while my desire of
study increased with the acquisition of books, in which aU my
pocket-money was expended.
One day, my good friend, Mr. WaUis, entered the office, fol
lowed by a short sharp- visaged man, with a sallow complexion :
he was dressed in a shabby frock, buttoned up to the throat — a
rusty black sUk neckerchief supplying the place of shirt and
coUar. He stood just within the threshold of the door, holding his
napless hat in his hand. .
"WeU, Wally, my buck," cried my master, extending his hand.
Mr. WalUs advanced close to his elbow, and spoke in a
whisper ; but I observed, by the direction of his eyes, that the
subject of liis communication was the stranger.
' " Ha," said Mr. Timmis, "it's all very well, Wally — but I
hate all forriners ; — why don't he go back to Frogland, and not
come here palming himself upon us. It's no go — not a scud-
dick. They're all a parcel o' humbugs — and no mistake !"
As he uttered this gracious opinion sufficiently loud to strike
upon the tympanum of the poor fellow at the door, I could per
ceive his dark eyes glisten, and the blood tinge his woe-beo-one
cheeks ; his lips trembled with emotion : there was an evident
struggle between offended gentility and urgent necessity.
Pride, however, gained the mastery; and advancing the right
foot, he raised his hat, and with peculiar grace bowing to the
two friends — " Pardon, Monsieur Vallis," said he, in tremulous
accents, " I am de trop ; permit me to visdraw " — and instantly
left the office."
Mr. Timmis, startled by his sudden exit, looked at Mr. WaUis
for an explanation.
"By  " exclaimed Mr. Wallis, seriously — "you've hurt
that poor fellow's feelings. I would sooner have given a guinea
than he should have heard you. Dubois is a gentleman; and

134 Seymour's sketches.
although he's completely ' stumped,' and hasn't a place to put his
head in, he's tenacious of that respect which is due to every man,
whether he happens to be at a premium or a discount."
" Go it !" cried Mr. Timmis, colouring deeply at this merited
reproof—" If this ain't a reg'lar sermon ! I didn't mean to hurt
his feelings, d — me ;  I'm a reg'lar John BuU, and he should
know better than to be popped at my bluntness. D — me, I
wouldn't hurt a worm — you know I wouldn't, WaUis." .
There was a tone of contrition in this rambling apology that
satisfied Mr. WaUis of its truth ; and he immediately entered into
an explanation on the Frenchman's situation. He had known
him, he said, for several years, as a tutor in the famUy of one of
his chents, by whom he was much respected : a heavy loss had
compeUed them suddenly to reduce their establishment ; Dubois
had entreated to remain with his pupil— refused to receive any
salary — and had even served his old patron in the capacity of a
meniaL adbeiing to him in all his misfortunes, and only parted
with him, reluctantly, at the door of the debtor's prison !
"Did he fdo that?" said my master; and I saw his eyes
moisten at the relation, " A French mounseer do that ! Game —
d — me !" and lifting the Ud of his desk, he drew out a five-
pound note ! " Here, WaUis, tip him this flimsy ! Tell him —
you know what to say — I'm no speechifier — but you know what
I mean." I ahnost jumped up and hugged my master, I was so
excited. The next day Monsieur Dubois again made his appearance ;
and Mr. WaUis had the pleasure of beholding Mr. Timmis and
his GalUc friend on the best terms, imaginable.
As for me, I had a good cause to rejoice ; for it was agreed
that I should take lessons in the "foreign lingo," by way of
giving him a " lift," as Mr. Timmis expressed it. I remember
him with feelings of gratitude ; for I owe much more than the
knowledge of the language to his kindness and instruction.
As for Mr. Timmis, he could never sufficiently appreciate his
worth, although he uniformly treated him with kindness.
"Talk of refinement," said he one day, when discussing
Dubois' merits with Mr. WaUis; "I saw a bit to-day as bangs
everything. A cadger sweeping a crossing feU out with a dust
man. Wasn't there some spicy jaw betwixt 'em ! Well, nothing
would suit, but the dustman must have a go, and pitch into the
pQjQ<jGr.
« -qI  me, what does the cove do, but he outs with a bit of
dirty pasteboard, and he says, says he, 'I sha'n't fight with
fistesses, it's wulgar !— but if he's a mind to anything like a
cemrnan, here's my card !'— Wam't there a roar ! I lugged out a
bob, and flung it at the vagabond for his wit."

Boh amtuoa gl/id you- aint re .Blaek- emoor?
/should Ihinle so them sirh, ugly waivients. Master's
deuig'hshr wots ceme from, hording srhsol. sags tlie sight
ahem, is enongJh to ftighdai- ane win ccnmthuitis .'.'

Seymour's sketches. 135

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XIII.
MY TALENT CALLED INTO ACTIVE SERVICE.
Having to deliver a letter, containing an account and a stock
receipt, to one of Mr. Timmis's clients, residing at the west end
of the town ; in crossing through one of the fashionable squares,
I observed a flat-faced negro servant in livery, standing at the
door of one of the houses.
Two chimney-sweepers who happened to be passing, showed
their white teeth in a contemptuous grin at the African.
" Bob," I overheard one remark, " ar'n't you glad you ain't a
black-a-moor ?"'
" I should think so," replied his sooty brother, " they're sich
ugly warmints. Master's daughter, wots come from boarding
school, says the sight of 'em's enough to frighten one into con-
wulsions !"
Alas! for the prejudice of the world ! How much this igno
rant remark reminded me of my patron's unfounded hatred of
aU " forriners." It was precisely the same sentiment, differently
expressed, that actuated the thoughts and opinions of both.
I must, however, do Mr. Timmis the justice to say, that he
made ample amends to Monsieur Dubois for the affront he had
so thoughtlessly put upon the worthy Frenchman ; and did all in
his power to obtain him pupils.
The consequent change in his dress and manner, his amiable
conduct, and gentlemanly deportment, at last completely won
upon the esteem of the boisterous broker, who swore, (for that
was generally his elegant manner of expressing his sincerity)
that Dubois was a ' downright good'un ;' and were it not for his
foreign accent, he should have taken him for an Englishman born
— reaUy believing, that there was no virtue in the world but of
Enghsh growth.
I had now been above twelve months in his office, and al
though I had received but a moderate compensation for my
services, yet the vast improvement I had made (thanks to the
instruction of Monsieur Dubois) was more valuable than gold.
My father also, though but scantily furnished with book-know
ledge, had, nevertheless, the good sense to appreciate and
encourage my progress ; he was well aware from observation,

136 Seymour's sketches.
that ' knowledge is power,' and would frequently quote the old
saw, — " When house, and land, and money's spent ;
Then laming is most excellent," —
and spared all the money he could ' scrape ' together to purchase
books for me.
One day Mr. Crobble came into the office with an open letter
in his hand. " Here," cried he, " I've received a remittance at
last from that German fellow — two good bfils on the first house
in the city— but I can't make top nor tail of his rigmarole. Do
you know any chap among your acquaintance who can read
German ?"
" Not I," replied Mr. Timmis.
"WiU you allow me, Mr. Crobble ?" said I, stepping forward.
" This letter is written in French, not German, sir," I ob
served. " What's the difference to me, Master Andrew ; it might as
well be in wild. Irish, for the matter o' that."
" Andrew can read the lingo," said my master.
" The devil he can !" exclaimed Mr. Crobble.
" I dare say I shall be able to make it out," said I ; " and if
not Monsieur Dubois will be here to-morrow morning, and you can
have it by twelve o'clock, sir."
" Ain't that the ticket ?" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, dehghted at
the surprise of his friend ; " you don't know how vastly clever
we are, old fellow."
Mr. Crobble, much gratified at this information, placed the
letter in my hands ; and, leaving me, to take a lunch at Gang
way's with Mr. Timmis, I eagerly set about my task— and
luckily it was not only plainly written, but the subject-matter
by no means difficult, being rather complimentary than technical.
By the time they returned, I had not only translated, but made a
fair copy of it, in my best hand.
" Come, that is clever," said Mr. Crobble ; " let me see, now
what shaU I give you ?"
" Nothing, sir," I promptly replied : " I am Mr. Timmis's clerk
— and all that I know I owe to his kindness."
I saw with pleasure, that this compliment was not lost upon
my master.
Mr. Crobble was really a gentleman in feeling, and therefore
did not persist in offering me any remuneration ; but as he left
the office, he said, " I thank you, Mr. Andrew — I shall not for
get your services ;" and departed evidently much pleased with
my performance.

.^f Country Hxcarsiem, .
He canvrtf, yaw hack 'cause tha, locks tha, gates. JWeU, txavwe
go forward then,.' Noa, ee cajyizt aurse, theneads ere imder water

Seymour's sketches. 137
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XIV.
A DILEMMA.
"Ee cawnt gow back, 'ca,use they locks the gates," said a
bumpkin on the road-side to a Cockney-party in a one-horse chaise.
"Well, can we go forward,. then?" demanded the anxious and
wearied traveUer.
" Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water," replied the
joskin, with a grin.
This was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting;
and I smfied when I heard the story told, little suspecting that
Fortune would one day throw me into a simUar dilemma — so
blindly do we mortals hug ourselves in the supposed security of
our tact and foresight.
" How d'ye do, Mr. Andrew ?" said Mr. Crobble, when he had
seated himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the
fatiguing operation of mounting the stairs. " Where's Timmis ?
— TeU him I want a word with him."
I quickly summoned my patron, and foUowed him into the
office. " Well, old puff and blow !" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, with his
usual familiarity. " What's in the wind ? # Want to sell out ?
The fives are fallen three per cent, since Friday. All the 'Change
is as busy as the devil in a high wind."
"No — no more dabbling, Timmis," replied Mr. Crobble; "I
lost a cool hundred last account ; I want a word in private with
you," — and he glanced towards me ; upon which I seized my hat,
and took up my position at my old post on the landing. How
were my feelings altered since I first loitered there, listening to
the marvels of poor Matthew ! •
I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr.
Timmis recaUed me.
" Andrew," said he, " my friend Crobble wants a clerk, and has
cast his eye upon you. What do you say ?"
I scarcely knew" what to say. On one side stood my master,
to whom I reaUy owed so much — on the other his friend, who
offered me a promotion, which I felt on many accounts was most
attractive. "I should have no objection," I rephed, "but great
pleasure in serving Mr. Crobble, sir — but — I have received so
many favours from you, that I'm afraid I might seem ungrateful."
The good-natured Mr. Wallis happUy stepped in at this mo
ment to my relief. 18

138 Seymour's sketches.
"Nonsense," replied Mr. Timmis; "the stock is delivered to
the highest bidder ; here Crobble backs eighteen shiUings a-week
against my half-a-crown — take him."
I still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from his
expression, that Mr. Timmis valued the servant much less than-
the servant valued the master.
" Only look here, WaUy," cried he; " here stands Andrew, like
an ass between two bundles of hay."
" Rather Uke a bundle of hay between two asses, I think," re
plied Mr. Wallis ; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder,
he continued — " accept Mr. Crobble's offer, Master Andrew : you're
much too good for Timmis — he can soon get a grubby half-crown
boy — but you. may wait a long time for such an eligible offer."
" Eighteen shiUings a week," said Mr. Crobble ; who, I must
confess, without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared
anxious to engage me — " but I shall want security."
That word " security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting
spirit, and cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy
thoughts had climbed to !
" Five hundred pounds," continued Mr. Crobble ; " d'ye think —
have ye any friends ?"
" None, sir ; my father is a poor man, and quite unable." I
could scarcely speak — like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I
could neither advance nor recede.
" The father," said Timmis, " is only a poor shoe-maker— a good
fellow, though — an excellent fit!"
" You mean to say," cried Mr. Wallis, " it were boot-leas to seek
security of the shoe-maker."
A laugh ensued ; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I
could not forbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis's humour, and join
ing in the merriment.
This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. —
" Come," said Mr. WaUis, " I'll stand two hundred and fifty— and
you, Timmis, must "go the other."
" No ; d— me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in,
perhaps," exclaimed Mr. Timmis. I burst into tears ; I felt, that
from my long and faithful services, I deserved a better opinion —
although I had no right to expect so great a favour.
Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded
my feelings; and swore a round oath that he was only joking,
and I was a fool. " Did I think, for a moment, that Wally
should get the start of him; no — I was an honest chap, and he'd
put his fist to double the amount to serve me;" and then bade
me " sit to the books," and make all square before I cut my stick,
and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in my
circumstances.

^,W// "three liohdiag's left, and still this ~plagzLeu
yleisi saiir rerit ivet' I card, hear it, 1 caret, and I
wenrl

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 139
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XV.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
How impatiently did I count the minutes till the office was
closed, for I longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good
fortune to my worthy father. The old man wept with joy at the
prospect, and assisted me in rearing those beautiful fabrics termed
castles in the air.
His own trade, by the recommendation of the rough, ill-man
nered, but good-natured Mr. Timmis, had wonderfully increased ;
and, by making some temporary sacrifices, he was enabled to- give
me an appearance more suitable to the new position in which I
was so unexpectedly placed. In a narrow alley, on the south side
of the Royal Exchange, on the ground-floor, I found the counting-
house of Mr. Crobble. Under his directions, I quickly made myself
master of the details of the business. Alas ! it was but the slender
fragment of a once flourishing mercantile house, of which time
liad gradually lopped off the correspondents, whilst his own inert
ness had not supplied the deficiency by anew connection; for his
father had -left him such an ample fortune, that he was almost
careless of the pursuit, although he could not make up his mind,
as he said,' to abandon the " old shop" where his present inde
pendence had been accumulated. I consequently found plenty of
leisure, uninterrupted by the continual hurry and bustle of a
broker's office, to pursue my favourite studies, and went on, not
only to the entire satisfaction of Mr. Crobble, but to my own., and
really began to find myself a man of some importance.
In the course of business, I one day fell in with an old acquaint
ance. "A parcel for Cornelius Crobble, Esq.," said a little porter, of
that pecuhar stamp which is seen hanging about coach-offices —
" two-and-sixpence." I looked at the direction, and drew out the " petty cash " to
defray the demand; when, then, first looking at the man, I
thought I recognised his features.
" What !" cried I, " isn't your name  "
" Matthew," answered he, quickly.
"Matthew ! — why, don't you know me ?"
" No, sir," repUed he, staring vacantly at me.
"Indeed! — Have I so outgrown all knowledge? Didn't you
recoUect Andrew Mullins ?"
18—2

140 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
" Good heavins !" exclaimed he, with his well -remembered nasal
twang ; " are you  "
" Yes."
"Well, I declare, now, you've growed into a gentleman! I
shouldn't — I reaUy shouldn't  " He did not say what he
really " should not" — but extended his hand. — "Hope you ain't
too proud to shake hands with an old friend ?"
I shook him heartily by the hand, and made some inquiries
touching his history.
Poor Matthew seated himself with aU the ease imaginable, and
laid his knot beside him, and began, after the manner of his
favourite heroes, to "unbosom himself."
" You've a father," said he ; " but I'm a horphan, without father
nof mother — a houtcast !" — and he sunk his head upon his bosom;
and I observed that his scrubby crop was already becoming thin
and bald.
" Since I left the place in the ' lane,' I've been a-going down —
down"— and he nearly touched the floor with his hand. " That
gal, Mary, was the ruin of me — I shaU never forget her. My
hopes is sunk, like the sun in the ocean, never to rise agin!" I
was rather amused by this romantic, though incorrect, figure ; but
I let him proceed : " I've got several places, but lost 'em aU. I think
there's a spell upon me ; and who can struggle against his fate ?"
I tried to console him, and found, upon a further confession,
that he had flown to spirits " now and then," to blunt the sharp
tooth of mental misery.
Here, then, was the chief cause of his want of success, which he
blindly attributed to fate — the common faiUng of all weak minds.
For my part, notwithstanding the imperial authority of the great
Napoleon himself, I have no faith in Fate, believing that the effect,
whether good or bad, may invariably be traced to some cause in
the conduct of the individual, as certainly as the loss of a man, in
a game of draughts, is the consequence of a " wrong move" by the
player ! — And poor Matthew's accusation of Fate put me in mind
of the school-boy, who, during a wet vacation, rushed vindictively
at the barometer and struck it in the face, exclaiming — " Only
three hoUdays left, and still this plaguy glass says 'very wet;' —
I can't bear it — I can't — and I won't."
I did all in my power to comfort the little porter, exhorting
him to diligence and sobriety.
" You were always a kind friend," said he, pathetically ; " and
perhaps — perhaps you will give me something to drink your
health, for old-acquaintance sake." This unexpected turn com
pelled me. to laughter. I gave him sixpence.
Alas ! Matthew I found was but a piece of coarse gingerbread,
tricked out with the Dutch metal of false sentiment.

70

I say meant, do you liecpgen Iu Iljj e 1dvc Tiaxr of
'.III ro in ul ' ~iruj feat, d rears a oreeu riLLm"/

Seymour's sketches. 141
ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XVL
THE LOSS OF A FRIEND.
I WAS startled by the batho-romantic sentiment of Matthew
somewhat in the same manner as the young lady at the book
seller's, when she was accosted by a musical dustman with — "I
say, ma'am, do you happen to have the hair of ' All round my
hat I vears a green villow ?' "
But, however ridiculous they may appear, such incongruous
characters are by no means caricatures — nay, are ' as plentiful as
blackberries,' especially in the lower grades of society.
I was indulging' in a reverie of this sort, when Monsieur
Dubois, my kind and gentlemanly tutor, abruptly entered the
office. I felt proud in having obtained his friendship — for he
was to me a mine of wealth, and appeared master of every sub
ject upon which my curiosity prompted me to inquire, whilst the
worthy Frenchman was so flattered by my sincere respect, that
he took a delight in imparting his knowledge to so willing and
diligent a scholar.
Mr. Crobble had promised that I should continue my studies,
being much pleased with the. proof I had been fortunate -enough
to give him of my progress, generously offering to defray the
charges of tuition ; and I found, in my new place, even more time
than when in the employ of Mr. Timmis : for, indeed, half-a-
clerk would -.have been sufficient to have conducted the whole
business. I was no less surprised at the unusual abruptness of approach,
than at the extraordinary excitement apparent in the manner of
Monsieur Dubois ; for he always boasted of his coolness and philo
sophy under all circumstances.
" Peace, peace ! — mon cher ami — peace is proclaim ! " cried
he, raising his hat and his eyes to the dingy ceiling of our office —
"Grace a. Dieu — le tyran Napoleon — le charlatan est renverse1
de son piedestel — oui, mon eleve — I vill see again once more my
dear France !"
He grasped my hand in his ecstasy, and tears filled his eyes
to overflowing. I had heard rumours of the restoration of the
Bourbons, but I had not anticipated the loss of my inestimable
tutor. I was almost ashamed of my selfishness ; but vanquished my

142 Seymour's sketches.
feeUngs so far as to congratulate him on his prospects with as
much cordiaUty and appearance of truth as I could assume.
" I trust, however," said I, " that restored to your country, and
your friends, you wiU find that happiness you so much deserve.
Go where you will, you will be foUowed by the regrets of your
English friends."
" Ah ! les _ Anglais ; — combien — how motch reconnaissance,''
said he, " I vU have for them ! I sail them forget nevare !"
. Mr. Crobble interrupted our colloquy. "All right t'other
side the channel, Mounseer," cried he, elated;' "we've licked
Boney : he's done up : stocks are up ; and Timmis, (your old
master, Andrew), is as busy as a bee — only he's making money
instead of honey !"
He shook hands with Monsieur Dubois ; and congratulated
him upon the restoration of Louis the Eighteenth.
I mentioned to him Monsieur Dubois' intention of proceeding
immediately to France. " He's right," cried he ; " let every
man stick to his King and his country ; and I say " — he sud
denly checked himself, and beckoning me aside, continued in an
under-tone — "Andrew, you understand this Mounseer better
than I do ; he appears a good feUow in the main : if he should
want a lift, to fit him out for the voyage, or anything of that sort,
tell him Corny Crobble wiU lend him a hand, for old acquaintance
sake ; I sha'n't stick at a matter of forty or fifty pounds — you
understand — put it to him as a matter of business ; for that'U suit
his proud stomach best, perhaps " — then, turning to Mounseer, he
said, "Excuse whispering before company, Mounseer Dubois.
Good morning."
" Bon jour, Monsieur," replied Dubois, making my obese gover
nor one of his most graceful bows.
I was highly gratified at being selected as the medium of this
generous offer ; which Monsieur Dubois received without hesi
tation, as one who intended to repay it ; but, at the same time,
¦with the most grateful acknowledgments of Mr. Crobble's con
siderate kindness.

71

ItkmJc there recast It sorrietdmig mwy aioatjeourrowwg
Mu rotiirui Inons erne Itte your steering
j ¦/

Seymour's sketches. 143

ANDREW MULLINS.
CHAPTER XVII.
PROMOTION.
" I remember when I was a young man, I once took a fancy to
rowing," said Mr. Crobble one day to me. " I wasn't then quite
so round as I am at present. Cousin Tom and I hired a wherry,
but somehow we found we didn't make much way. Tom was
steering; and I took the sculls, setting my bach to him like a
gaby !
" ' I think there must be something wrong about your rowing,'
said Tom.
"'My rowing!' cried I; 'nonsense! — It's because you don't
steer .right.' WeU, at last a waterman came alongside, and grin
ning (the feUow couldn't help it) good-naturedly pointed out the
cause of our dilemma ; at which we both laughed heartily. Ever
since that time I have been of opinion, that, unless people, ' who
row in the same boat,' understand each other, they'll never get
along." I smiled at this lengthy prologue, not conceiving to what it
could -possibly lead.
"-Now, Mr. Andrew," resumed he, "I mean to be very indus
trious,- and devote a whole day to giving you an insight into the
business ; after which I expect you'll pull away, while I only steer,
which wiU suit me to a T, you understand."
"Exactly, sir," I replied-; and, in consequence, he really set
about the task ; and I soon acquired sufficient knowledge in the
business, as' not only to row in the same boat with him, but, what
was still more agreeable to my patron's indolence, to manage the
"craft" without his assistance.
Six months after the departure of Monsieur Dubois, he sent
a remittance with interest, on the amount advanced by Mr.
Crobble, with a long epistle to me, stating that he had entered
into partnership with his elder brother, and commenced the busi
ness of a banker, under the firm of "Dubois Freres," at the same
time informing me that they were already doing a large stroke of
business, and wanted an agent in London, requesting me to in
form him if it would be agreeable to Mr. Crobble for them to
draw upon his respectable house.
I saw at once the advantages of this correspondence, and so
warmly solicited Mr. Crobble to accede, that he at last consented,
provided I took the whole management of the affair.

144 Seymour's sketches.
The English were now daily flocking to Paris, and the money
required for their lavish expenditure in the gay capital of France
compeUed their apphcation to the bankers.
Messrs. Dubois Freres had their share of this lucrative business,
and, as their agents in London, we necessarily became participa
tors in their large transactions.
In three months these operations had increased so enormously,
and the profits were so considerable, that Mr. Crobble not only
advanced my salary, but consented to engage the assistance of
two junior clerks. I was now a man of some consideration. I
was the senior clerk of the establishment, although the youngest
of the three.
In two years I found myself at the head of six clerks, and had
as much business as I could possibly manage.
My star was in the ascendant. I had not only more money than.
I required for my expenses, but was enabled to maintain my poor
old father, who daily became more and more infirm.
I rented a small cottage at the rural village of Hackney, but
my labour occupied me early and late,, and it was only on a Sun
day I could really enjoy my home.
Three years after quitting the office of Mr. Timmis, I had the
inexpressible pleasure of employing him to purchase stock for his
errand boy ! I was as proud as a king.
'' I said that boy would turn out well," said the good-natured
Mr. WaUis ; " he always had a good principle."
" And now bids fair," said Mr. Timmis, " to have both prin
cipal and interest."
Mr. Crobble having lately had a large property left him in
Hertfordshire, rarely came to the office above once a- quarter, to
settle accounts.
"A good dividend — a very good dividend!" said he, upon
receipt of the last quarter's profits. " But Mr. Mullins, I cannot
forget that this business is your child."
" I am happy to say a thriving one," I replied.
" Are you satisfied — perfectly satisfied V demanded he.
" Beyond my wishes, sir."
" I am not," said he shortly.
" No, sir ?" exclaimed I, with "surprise.
" No, sir !" repeated he. " Those who sow should reap. I've
no children — I'm an idle fellow — a drone, sir— and won't consent
to consume all the honey. Don't speak, sir — read that!" and
he pulled a parchment from his pocket.
It was a deed of partnership between Cornelius Crobble, of
— ¦ — Lodge, Hertfordshire, Esquire, and the poor cobbler's son,
Andrew Mullins.

11

A Musical Festival.
lis, rn/trm., us too fat, for your stornathy, Im sure, -marm.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 145
A MUSICAL FESTIVAL.
Molly Scraggs and the Fiddler.
Matter-of-fact people read the history of Orpheus, and imagine
his "charming rocks" and "soothing savage beasts," is a mere
fabulous invention. No such thing : it is undoubtedly founded
on fact. Nay, we could quote a thousand " modern instances " of
the power of music quite as astonishing.
One most true and extraordinary occurrence wiU- suffice to
establish the truth of our proposition beyond a doubt. Molly
Scraggs was a cook in a " first-rate" family in the most aristo
cratic quarter of the metropolis.
The master and mistress were abroad, and MoUy had nothing
to do but to indulge her thoughts ; and, buried as she was in the
pleasant gloom and quiet of an underground kitchen, nothing
could possibly be more favourable to their development. She
was moreover exceedingly plump, tender, and sentimental, and
had had a lover, who had proved false to his vows.
In this eligible situation and temper for receiving soft impres
sions, she sat negligently rocking herself in her chair, and polish
ing the lid of a copper saucepan ! when the sweet mellifluous
strains of an itinerant band struck gently upon the drum of her
ear. " Wapping Old Stairs" was distinctly recognized, and she
mentally repeated the words so applicable to her bereaved situa
tion: — " Your MoUy has never proved false she declares," till the
tears literally gushed from her 'blue, blue orbs,' and trickled
down her plump and ruddy cheeks ; but scarcely had she plunged
into the very depths of the pathos induced by the moving air,
which threatened to throw her into a gentle swoon, or kicking
hysterics, when her spirit was roused by the sudden change of
the melancholy ditty, to the rampant and Uvely tune with the
popular burden of, " Turn about and wheel about, and jump Jim
Crow !"
This certainly excited her feelings : but, strange to say, it made
19

146 Seymour's sketches.
her leap from her chair — exasperated, as it were, by the sudden
revulsion — and rush into the area.
" Don't, for goodness sake, play that horrid ' chune,' " said
Molly, emphatically addressing the minstrels.
The ' fiddle' immediately put his instrument under his arm, and
touching the brim of his napless hat, ' scraped' a sort of bow, and
smilingly asked the cook to name any other tune she preferred.
" Play us," said she, " ' Oh ! no, we never mention her,' or
summat o' that sort ; I hate jigs and dances mortally."
" Yes, marm," replied the ' fiddle,' obsequiously ; and, whisper
ing the 'harp' and 'bass,' they played the air to her heart's
content. In fact, if one might guess by the agility with which she ran
into the kitchen, she was quite " melted ;" and returning with the
remnants of a gooseberry pie and the best part of a shoulder of
mutton, she handed them to the musicians.
" Thanky'e marm, I'm sure," said the ' bass,' sticking his teeth
into the pie-crust.
" The mutton's rather fat, but it's sweet, at any rate."
" Yes, marm," said the 'fiddle ;' " it's too fat for your stomach,
I'm sure, marm ;" and consigned it to his green-baize fiddle-case.
" Now," said Molly, " play us, ' Drink to me only,' and I'll
draw you a mug o' table ale."
" You're vastly kind," said the ' fiddle ;' " it's a pleasure to play
anythink for you, marm, you've sich taste ;" and then turning to
his comrades, he added, with a smile, " By goles ! if she ain't the
woppingest cretur as ever I set eyes on."
. The tune required was played, and the promised ale discussed.
The ' bass,' with a feeling of gratitude, voted that they should
give a parting air unsolicited.
" Vot shall it be ?" demanded the ' harp.'
" Vy, considering of her size," replied the ' fiddle,' " I thinks as
nothink could be more appropriate than ' FareweU to the moun
tain !' " and, striking up, they played the proposed song, march
ing on well pleased with the unexpected appreciation of their
musical talent by the kind and munificent Molly Scraggs !

Tfits mill makes a, plaguey Tirtnxrnerireg

Seymour's sketches. 147

THE MILL-STREAM ANGLER
" Beside a meandering stream
An elderly gentleman sat ;
On the top of his head was Ms wig,
On the top of his wig was his hat."
I ONCE followed a venerable gentleman along the banks of a mill-
stream, armed at all points with piscatorial paraphernalia, looking
out for some appropriate spot, with all the coolness of a Spanish
inquisitor displaying his various instruments of refined torture.
He at last perch-ed himself near the troubled waters, close to a
huge revolving wheel, and threw in his float, which danced upon
the mimic waves, and bobbed up and down, as if preparing for a
reel. Patiently he sat ; as motionless and unfeeling as a block.
I placed myself under coyer of an adjoining hedge, and watched
him for the space of half an hour ; but he pulled up nothing but
his baited hook ; what his bait was, I know hot ; but I suppose,
from the vicinity, he was fishing for a " miller's' thumb." Pre
sently two "mealy-mouthed" men from the mill made their ap
pearance, cautiously creeping behind him.
I drew myself up in the shadow of the luxuriant quickset to
observe their motions. ¦
A paling in the rear offered the rogues an effectual concealment
in case the angler should turn.
Close to his seat ran some wood- work, upon which they quietly
drew the broad tails of his coat, and driving in a couple of ten-
penny nails, left the unconscious old gentleman a perfect fixture,
to be taken at a valuation, I suppose, part of his personal pro
perty being already "brought to the hammer!" the clattering
clamour of the wheel precluding him from hearing the careful, but
no less effectual taps. I certainly enjoyed the trick, and longed
19—2

148 Seymour's sketches.
to see the ridiculous issue; but he was so intent upon his sport —
so fixed ! — that he did not discover the nature of his real attach
ment while I remained ; having merely exclaimed to himself in a
half tone, " This mill makes a plaguy hammering."
Doubtless if he were of a quick and sudden temperament, a
" snatch" of his humour rent his broad cloth, and he returned
home with a woful tail, and slept not — for his nap was irrepara
bly destroyed !
I hate all twaddle; but when I see an old fool with rod and
line, " Sitting like patience on a monument," and selling the
remnant of his life below cost price in the pursuit of angling, —
" that art of ingeniously tormenting," — a feeling, " more in sorrow
than in anger," is excited at his profitless inhumanity.
Vainly do all the disciples of " honest Izaak Walton" discourse
»
in eulogistic strains, of the pleasures of the sport. I can imagine
neither pleasure nor sport derivable from the infliction of pain
upon the meanest thing endowed with life.
This may be deemed Brahminical, but I doubt that man's
humanity who can indulge in the cruel " recreation" -and " murder
while he smiles."
"What heretical sentiments," exclaims some brother of the
angle, (now I am an angle, but no angler.) " This fellow hath
never trudged at early dawn along the verdant banks of the
'sedgy lea,' and.drunk in the dewy freshness of the morning air.
His lines have never faUen in pleasant places. He has never
performed a pilgrimage to Waltham Cross. He is, in truth, one
of those vulgar minds who take more delight in the simple than
the— gentle !— and every line of his deserves a rod !"

¦~\

74

W'f^0i'^-r<
¦ kadr-dM,'^'-*

2'eir Jem,, lets sketr thetsr aaZs h

¦ieiw we nut, roir

Seymour's sketches. 149
COCKNEY BOATERS CATCHING A CRAB.
" Now, Jem, let's shew these gals how ve can row."
The tide is agin us, I know,
But puU away Jem, like a trump ;
Vot's that ? 0 ! my vig, it's a barge —
Oh ! criky ! but that vos a bump !
How lucky 'twas full o' round coals,
Or ve might ha' capsized her — perhaps !
See, the bargemen are grinning, by goles !
I never seed sich wulgur chaps.
Come, pull away, -Jem; like a man, - .
Avherry's a-coming along
Vith a couple o' gals all agog —
So let us be first in the throng.
Now put your scull rig'ler in;
Don't go for to make any crabs ;
But feather your oar, like a nob,
And show 'em ve're nothing but dabs !

*o

The vaterman's leering at us,
And the gals is a giggling so —
They take us for green'uns, but ve
ViU soon show 'em how ve can row.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
Alas ! for poor Bobby's " show off" —
He slipp'd in a trice from his seat —
WhUe his beaver" feU into the stream,
And the gals laughed aloud at his feat.
For his boots were alone to be seen,
As he sprawled like a crab on its back ;
While the waterman cried — " Ho ! my lads !
I think you'd best try t'other tack !"
Says Bobby — '' You fool, its your fault ;
Look my best Sunday castor is vet :
Pull ashore, then, as fast as you can,
I can't row no more — I'm upset.
" I think that my napper is broke,
A bumpin' agin this wile boat ;
You may laugh — but I think it's no joke ;
And I sha'n't soon agin be afloat.
" I'll never take you out agin —
I've had quite enough in this bout !"
Cried Jem — " Don't be angry with me ;
Sit stUl, and I'll soon — put you out !"

Telcr . <i,,iples lereigii-ldrmiitTe Jfal.
Oh ig/ res J a Jfidsh,y/i<,m to he u reeled en this desehde'IdeinJ.I ns7e
1 1'. 'S ol Iti'tne atJSlooiitslvirg 'Oh t7t,dJhatl hit to turn and eittl'iuee nut
irr . oood. heiteyoleiit.imd ii;r,di ees/ieeh-,/ tyrardi.-ieflhr

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 151

PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE.
No. I.
"Loud roared ihe dreadful thunder." — Bay of Biscay.
The good ship the Firefly tossed and tumbled on the mountainous
waves of the stormy sea, like a cork in a gutter ; and when she
could not stem the waves, politically tried a little tergiversation,
and went stern foremost ! The boatswain piped all hands, and
poor Peter Simple piped his eye ; for the cry of the whole crew
was, that they were all going to Davy Jones's locker. The waves
struck her so repeatedly, that at last she appeared as ungovernable
as a scold in a rage; and as she found she could not, by any
means, strike the storm in the wind, and so silence it, she gave
vent to her fury by striking on a rock !
It was a hard alternative truly ; but what could she do ? The
long-boat was soon alongside, and was not long before it was filled
with tars and salt-water. Alas ! she was speedily swamped, and
the crew were compelled to swim for their lives. Peter, however,
could not swim, but the sea gave him a lift in his dilemma, and
washed him clean ashore, where he lay for some time like a verit
able lump of salt-Peter ! When the storm had abated he came to
himself, aud of course found himself in no agreeable company !
Sticking his cocked hat on his head, and grasping his dirk in his
hand, he tottered to a rock, when, seating himself, he philosophic
ally rocked to and fro. " Oh ! vy vos I a midshipman," cried he,
" to be wrecked on this desolate island ? I vish I vos at home at
Bloomsbury ! Oh ! that I had but to turn and embrace my kind,
good, benevolent, and much respected grandmother." As he
uttered this pathetic plaint, he heard a chatter — of which, at first
considering that it proceeded from his own teeth, he took no
notice — but the sounds being repeated, he turned his head, and
beheld a huge baboon with a dog-face and flowing hair, grinning
with admiration at his cocked hat.
One look was sufficient ! he leaped from his seat, and rushed
wildly forward, threading a wood in his way, and turning in and

152 Seymour's sketches.
out — in and out — with the sharpness and faciUty of a needle in
the heel of a worsted stocking — he never stayed his flight, 'till he
feU plump into the centre of a group of Indians, who received
him with a yeU ! — loud enough to split the drums of a whole
drawing-room full of " ears polite."
He would have fallen headlong with fear and exhaustion upon
the turf, had not a gentle female caught the slender youth in her
arms, and embraced him with all the energetic affection of a boa-
constrictor. Peter trembled like a little inoffensive mouse in the claws of a
tabby !
At the same time one of the Indians stepped forward, brandish
ing his scalping knife.
He was the very prototype of an animated bronze Hercules ;
and, seizing the poor middy's lank locks with a peculiar twist in
his iron grasp — Peter fainted.

Peter Simples llveiim AelverdnreWd.
Serein in ineirrnrd to t!tc onlg divigh/er of die great ehed: nd/o would liare
misted me ii'ddt die re.d ei our rr,w, 7m,l Iiiot atee/i ajei/tidl eet/setitdVi
1 H'ntidrr d~l ' et-er s/ndl ,/,:,' Iie/nr ,{¦ he in, lined le Miss Ifn/oin.t.".'

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 153

PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE.
No. II.
" 0 ! what a lost mutton am I !" — Inkle and Yarico.
Most luckily for poor Peter was it, that he fell into the hands, or
rather the arms, of the Indian maid ; for she not only preserved
his crop, but his Ufe. When he recovered from his swoon, he
found himself seated beside his preserver, who; with one arm round
his waist, was holding a cocoa-nut, fiUed with a refreshing bever
age, to his parched and pallid lips. A large fire blazed in the
middle of the wide space occupied by the Indians, and he beheld
the well-known coats" and jackets of the brave crew of the Fire
fly scattered on the green sward.
His heart palpitated — he thought at first that the villainous
Indians had stripped them, and left them to wander in a state of
nature through the tangled and briery woods. He was, however,
soon — too soon — convinced that the savages had dressed them !
Yes, that merry crew — who had so often roasted him — had been
roasted by the Indians !
From this awful fate the lovely Ootanga had preserved him.
She had suddenly conceived a violent affection for the young
white-face ; and, after a long harangue to the chief, her father, his
consent was obtained, and the nuptials were celebrated.
" I smeU a rat," said Peter — " I'm booked ; but better booked
than cooked, at any rate ;" and forthwith returned thanks to the
company for the honour they had conferred upon him, in the
fashion of an .after-dinner speech, accompanied with as much pan
tomime as he could manage.
A dance and a feast followed, of which Peter partook ; but
whether rabbit, squirrel, or monkey, formed the basis of his wed
ding-supper, he was not naturalist enough to determine.
Ootanga's affection, however was sufficient to make amends for
20

154 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
anything ; she was, in truth, a most kilfing beauty, for she brought
him tigers slain by her own hands, and made a couch for him of
the skins.
She caught rattlesnakes' for him, and spitch-cocked them for his
breakfast. In fact, there was nothing she left undone to convince
him of her unbounded love.
Peter's heart, however was untouched by all this show of ten
derness ; for the fact is he had already given his heart to a white
face in his own country.
The only consolation he had in his forlorn situation was to talk
of her continually ; and, as Ootanga understood not a syllable of
what he uttered, she naturally applied all his tender effusions to
herself, and laughed, and grinned, and showed her white teeth, as
if she would devour her little husband.
Seated on a tiger skin, with his lawful spouse beside him,
arrayed in shells, bows, feathers, and all the adornments of a
savage bride, he stiU sighed for home, and plaintively exclaimed :
" Here I am, married to the only daughter of the great chief,
who would have roasted me with the rest of our crew, had I not
given a joyful consent. Oh ! I wonder if I ever shall get home,
and be married to Miss Wiggins ! ! ! "
The lovely wide-mouthed Ootanga patted him fondly on the
chin, and dreamed in her ignorance that he was paying her a
compliment in his native language.

77

die sad, Wa>, patience- on, u,rivjruiment.

.snzdpvp at, grief '
STwrlr^spacr

Seymour's sketches. 155

THE STUDENT AND BULL.
"He sat, like patience on a monument, smiling at grief!'
Watty Williams was a studious youth, with a long nose and a
short pair of trousers; his delight .was in the green fields, for he
was one of those philosophers who can find "sermons in stones,
and good in everything." One day, while wandering in a mea
dow, lost in the perusal of Zimmerman on Solitude, he was sud
denly aroused from his reverie by a loud " Moo !" and, turning
about, he descried, to his dismay, a curly-fronted bull making
towards him.
Now, Watty was so good-humoured a fellow, that he could laugh
at an Irish buU, and withal so staunch a Protestant, that a papal
bull only excited a feeling of pity and contempt ; but a bull of
the breed whicli was careering towards him in such lively
bounds, alarmed him beyond all bounds ; and he forthwith scam
pered over the meadow from the pugnacious animal with the most
agile precipitation imaginable ; for he was not one of those stout
hearted heroes who could take the bull by the horns — especially
as the animal appeared inclined to contest the meadow with hiin ;
and though so fond of beef (as he naturally was), he declined a
•' round " upon the present occasion.
Seeing no prospect of escape by leaping stile -or hedge, he
hopped the green turf like an encaged lark, and happily reached
a poUard in the midst of the meadow.
Climbing up with the agUity of a squirrel, he seated himself on
the knobby summit of the stunted willow.
StiU retaining his Zimmerman and his- senses, he looked down
and beheld the corniferous quadruped gamboling playfuUy round
his singular asylum.
" Very pleasant !" exclaimed he ; "I suppose, old fellow, you
want to have a game at toss ! — if so, try it on with your equals,
for you must see, if you have any gumption, that Watty WilUams
is above you. Aye, you may roar ! — but if I sit here till Aurora
20—2

156 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
appears in the east, you won't catch me winking. — What a pity
it is you cannot reflect as weU as ruminate ; you would spare your
self a great deal of trouble, and me a little fright and incon
venience." The animal disdainfuUy tossed his head, and ran at the tree —
and "Away flew the light bark !"
in splinters, but the trunk remained unmoved.
" Shoo ! shoo !" cried Watty, contemptuously ; but he found
that shoo'ing horns was useless ; the beast stiU butted furiously
against the harmless pollard.
" Hallo !" cried he to a dirty boy peeping at a distance —
"Hallo!" but the lad only looked round, and vanished in an
instant. The -little fool's alarmed, I do believe !" said he ;" He's
only a cow-boy, I dare say !" And with this sapient, but unsatis
factory conclusion, he opened his book, and read aloud, to keep
up his courage.
The bull, hearing his voice, looked up with a most melancholy
leer, the corners of his mouth drawn down with an expression of
pathetic gravity.
Luckily for Watty, the little boy had given information of his
dilemma, and the farmer to whom the buU belonged came with
some of his men, and rescued him from his perilous situation.
" The gentleman will stand something to drink, I hope ?" said
one of the men.
" Certainly," said Watty.
" That's no more than right," said the farmer — " for, according
to the New Police Act, we could fine you."
" What for ?"
" Why, we could all swear that when we found you, you were
so elevated you could not walk."
Hereupon his deliverers set up a hearty laugh.
Watty gave them half-a crown ; saying, with mock gravity —
" I was on a tree, and you ' took me off" — that was kind ! I
was in a fright, and you laughed at me ; that was uncharitable.
Farewell !"

78

Jutn?^ ma.-: Jhu sheutet due b'cn.e name uze »ui' gou azme oat. that ticket
, re/it. tie. acre se one eeit/'t, go/er coppers, tdireepence.
Cc-km.':. J dces'rti. tAuiA: Jdrr gert ami /iru/pen.x. .'
lUrnpim: -ma.,,, it'eil ther, I nn si trier licit chancre.
actouy. JJut I'm ,-ireard 2'heirdtt get anfg surer left. J ' sau mister,
ceitdht gr-ie trust me I'd he irerrg sure tr bring itte gou ¦

Seymour's sketches. 157
A RIGMAROLE. Part I.
"De omnibus rebus."
The evening is calm — the sun has just sunk below the tUes of
the house, which serenely bounds the view from the quiet attic
where I wield the anserine plume for the delectation of the
pensive public — all nature, &c. — the sky is deep blue, tinged
with mellowest red, Uke a learned lady delicately rouged, and
ready for a literary soiree — the sweet-voiced pot-boy has com
menced his rounds with " early beer," and with leathern lungs,
and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new police-
act — greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood —
"Baked sheeps' heads, hot!" — 0! savoury morsel! — May no
legislative measure ever silence this peripatetic purveyor to the
poor ! or prevent his calling — may the tag-rag and bob-tail never
reject a sheep's head !
" I never sees a sheep's head but I thinks on you," said Mrs.
Spriggins, whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as
a duck's foot. Spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving
in a one-horse chaise, with two boys, and an infant in arms — :
Spriggins whipped his horse spitefully, for Mrs. S.'s sarcasm
inspired him with a splenetic feeling ; and as he durst not
chastise her, the animal received the benefit of her impetus.
Spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by dispositipn. Mrs.
S. was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;'' that was the
bait at which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and .he was
hooked ! The " spousals " had astonished the vulgar — the little
nightingale of Twickenham would have only smiled ; for has he
not sweetly sung —
" There swims no goose so grey, but soon or late
She finds some honest gander for her mate ; "
and her union was a verification of this flowing couplet.
At different times, what different meanings the self-same words
obtain. According to the reading of the new poor-law guardians

158 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
" Union," as far as regards man and wife, is explained " Separa
tion ;" or, like a ship when in distress, the " Union " is reversed !
In respect of his union, Spriggins would have most relished the
reading of the former ? But there are paradoxes — a species of
verbal puzzle — which, in the course of this ride, our amiable family
of the Spriggins's experienced to their great discomfort.
Drawing up at a turnpike gate, Mrs. S. handed a ticket to the
white-aproned official of the trust.
"You should have gone home the way you came out — that
ticket won't do here," said the man ; " so out with your coppers —
three-pence." " I don't think I've got any half-pence !." said Mr. S., fumbling
in his penniless pocket.
" Well, then, I must give you change."
" But I'm afraid I hav'n't got any silver," replied Mr. S., with
a long face. — " I say, mister, couldn't you trust me ? — I'd be
wery sure to bring it to you."
But the man only winked, and, significantly pointing the
thumb of his left hand over his sinister shoulder, backed the
horse. " Vell, I'm blessed," exclaimed Mr. S. — and so he was — with a
scolding wife and a squalling infant ; " and they calls this here
a trust, the fools ! and there ain't no trust at all !"
And the poor animal got another vindictive cut. Oh ! Mr.
Martin! — thou friend of quadrupeds! — would that thou had'st
been there. " It's all my eye and Betty Martin !" muttered
Mr. S., as he wheeled about the jaded beast he drove, and re
traced the road.

 JHB'

^* '>  i f

3n°>«

¦¦¦np

^ /^ W7-- the- dark.

Seymour's sketches, 159

A RIGMAROLE. Part II.
"Acti labor es sunt jucundi."
The horse is really a noble animal — I hate all rail-roads, for put
ting his nose out of joint — puffing, blowing, -smoking, jotting—
always going in a straight line : if this mania should continue, we
shall soon have the whole island ruled over like a copy-book —
nothing but straight lines — and sloping • lines through every
eounty in the kingdom !
• Give me the green lanes and - hills, when I'm inclined to
diverge ; and the smooth turnpike roads; when disposed to " go
a-head."  " I can't bear a horse," cries Numps : now this
feeling is not at all reciprocal, for every horse can bear a man,
" I'm off to the Isle of Wight," says Numps.. *' Then you're
going to Ryde at last," quoth I, "notwithstanding your hostility
to horse-flesh." "Wrong!" replies, he, "I'm. going to Cowes."
"Then you're merely a milk-and-water traveUer, Numps!"
The ninny! he does not know the delight of a canter in the
green fields — except, indeed, the said canter be of the genus-
homo, and a field preacher !
My friend Rory's the boy for a horse ; he and his bit o' blood
are notorious at aU the meetings. In fact I never saw him out
of the saddle : he is a perfect living specimen of the fabled
Centaur — full of anecdotes of fox-chases, and steeple-chases;
he amuses me exceedingly. I last encountered him in a green
lane near Hornsey, mounted on a roadster — his " bit o' blood "
had been sent forward, and he was leisurely making his way to
the appointed spot.
"I was in Buckinghamshire last week," said he; "a fine turn
out — such a field ! I got an infernal topper tho' — smashed my
best tile ; tell you how it was. There was a high paling — put
Spitfire to it, and she took it in fine style ; but as luck would
have it, the gnarled arm of an old tree came whop against my

160 Seymour's sketches.
head, and bonneted me completely ! Thought I was brained —
but we did it cleverly however— although, if ever I made a leap
in the dark, that was one. I was at fault for a minute — but
Spitfire was all alive, and had it all her own way : with some
difficulty I got my nob out of the beaver-trap, and was in at the
death!" I laughed heartily at his awkward dilemma, and wishing him
plenty of sport, we parted.
Poor Rory ! he has suffered many a blow and many a fall in
his time ; but he is still indefatigable in the pursuit of his fa
vourite pastime — so true is it — that
" The pleasure we delight in physic's pain ;"
his days pass lightly, and aU his years are leap-years !
He has lately inherited a considerable property, accumulated
by a miserly uncle, and has most appropriately purchased an
estate in one of the Ridings of Yorkshire.
With all his love for field-sports, however, he is no better:
" the better" says he, " is often the worse ; and I've no notion
of losing my acres in gambling ; besides, my chief aim being to
be considered a good horseman, I should be a consummate fool,
if, by my own folly, I lost my seat !"¦

Have yoit seen, the, Ttounds ttus wag, nv/ good man, 'Hounds?
Uogslrnear^gou^know what, a, pack of 'hounds are. dene you-

Seymour's sketches. 161

A RIGMAROLE. Part III.
'¦' Oderunt hilarem tristes ."
The sad only hate a joke. Now, my friend Rory is in no sense
a sad feUow, and he loves a joke exceedingly. His anecdotes of
the turf are all racy ; nor do those of the field less deserve the
meed of praise ! Lord F  was a dandy sportsman, and the
butt of the regulars. He was described by Rory as a " walking-
stick" — slender, but very "knobby" — with a pair of mustaches
and an eye-glass. Having lost the scent, he rode one day " slick'
into a gardener's ground, when his prad rammed his hind-legs
into a brace of hand-glasses, and his fore-legs into a tuUp-bed.
The horticulturist and the haughty aristocrat — how different
were their feelings — the cucumber coolness of the nil admirari
of the one was ludicrously contrasted with the indignation of the
astonished cultivator of the soil. " Have you seen the hounds
this way?" demanded Lord F  , deliberately viewing him
through his glass.
" Hounds !" bitterly repeated the gardener, clenching his fist.
" Dogs, I mean," continued Lord F  ; " you know what a
pack of hounds are — don't you ?"
" I know what a puppy is," retorted the man ; " and if so be
you don't budge, I'll spile your sport. But, first and foremost,
you must lug out for the damage you have done — you're a tres
passer." " I'm a sportsman, fellow — what d'ye mean ?"
" Then sport the blunt," replied the gardener ; and, closing his
gates, took Lord F  prisoner , nor did he set him free tiU he
had reimbursed him for the mischief he had done.
This was just ; and however iUegal were the means, I applauded
them for the end.
Our friend B  d, that incorrigible punster, said, " that his
horse had put his foot in — and he had paid his footing." 21

162 Seymour's sketches.
B  d, by the bye, is a nonpareil ; whether horses, guns, or
dogs, he is always " at home :" and even in yachting, (as he truly
boasts) he is never " at sea." Riding with him one day in an
omnibus, I praised the convenience of the vehicle; — "An ex
cellent vehicle," said he, "for punning;" — which he presently
proved, for a dowager having flopped into one of the seats,
declared that she "never rid vithout fear in any of them omnibus
things." " What is she talking about ?" said I."
" Be omnibus rebus," rephed he, — " truly she talks like the first
lady of the land ; but, as far as I can see, she possesses neither
the carriage nor the manners !"
" Can you read the motto on the Conductor's button ?" I
demanded. "No;" he replied, "but I think nothing would be
more appropriate to his caUing than the monkish phrase — 'pro
omnibus euro !' "
At this juncture a jolt, followed by a crash, announced that we
had lost a wheel. The Dowager shrieked. " We shaU aU be
killed," cried she ; " On'y to think of meeting vun's death in a
common omnibus !"
" Mors communis omnibus !" whispered B  d, and 
* * * # ' # #
I had written thus far, when spit — spit — splutter —plop ! — my
end of candle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was
" sustained," and I was left to admire — the stars of night, and to
observe that " Charles's wain was over the chimney ;" so I threw
down my pen — and, as the house was a-bed — and I am naturaUy
of a "retiring" disposition, I sought my pallet — dreaming of
literary fame ! — although, in the matter of what might be in store
for me, I was completely in the dark !

"Delicacy, my love. Delxcacy" XemVs, Fred, it's not
fashMmaZU! btstd&s vots the good, oluxymg a, fate ly
if om, trucstrit show It.

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 163

DELICACY!

A DUSTMAN AND HIS DOXY.
Lounging in Hyde Park with the facetious B  , ' aU on a
summer's day,' just at that period when it was the fashion to rail
against the beautiful statue erected by the ladies of England, in
honour of the Great Captain- —
" The hero of a hundred fights,"
"How proudly must he look from the windows of Apsley
House," said I, " upon this tribute to his mUitary achievements."
" No doubt," replied B  ; and with all that enthusiasm with
which one man of mettle ever regards another ! At the same time,
how lightly must he hold the estimation of the gallant sons of
Britain, when he reflects that he has been compelled to guard his
laureUed brow from the random bullets of a democratic mob, by
shot-proof bUnds to bis noble mansion : this was
" The unkindest cut of aU,"
after aU his hair-breadth 'scapes, by flood and field, in the service
of his country, to be compeUed to fortify his castle against
domestic foes.
"A mere passing cloud, that can leave no lasting impression on
his great mind," said I ; " whUe this statue wUl for ever remain a
memorial of his great deeds ; and yet the complaint is general
that the statue is indeUcate — as if, forsooth, this was the first
statue exhibited in puris naturalibus in England. I really re
gard it as the senseless cavilling of envious minds."
" True," said B — ¦ — , laughing ! " there is a. great deal of railing
about the figure, but we can all see through it !" at the same time
thrusting his walking-stick through the iron fence that surrounds
the pedestal. As for deUcacy, it is a word that is used so indis
criminately, and has so many significations, according to the
21—2

164 Seymour's sketches.
mode, that few people rightly understand its true meaning. We
say, for instance, a delicate child ; and pork-butchers recommend
a delicate pig ! Delicacy and indelicacy depend on the mind of
the recipient, and is not so much in the object as the observer,
rely on't. Some men have a natural aptitude in discovering the
indelicate both in word and figures ; they appear, in a manner, to
seek for it. I assure you that I (you may laugh if you will) have
often been put to the blush by the repetition of some. harmless
phrase, dropped innocently from my Ups, and warped by one of
these ' delicate ' gentlemen to a meaning the very reverse of what
I intended to convey. Like men with-green spectacles, they look
upon every object through an artificial medium, and give it a
colour that has no existence in itself !
It was only last week, I was loitering about this very spot
when I observed among the crowd of gazers, a dustman dressed
in his best, and his plump doxy, extravagantly bedizened in her
holiday clothes, hanging on his arm.
As they turned away, the lady elevated the hem of her rather
shorty garments a shade too high (as the dehcate dustman ima
gined) above her ancle. He turned towards her, and, in an
audible whisper, said, " Delicacy, my love — delicacy !" — ''¦ Lawks,
Fred!" replied the damsel, with a loud 'guffaw,' — "it's not
fashionable ! — besides, vot's the good o' having a fine leg, if one
mustn't show it ?"
So much for opinions on delicacy !

81

Steaming it to Margate.
Steward. 'bring me a, glass of IBrandg ous quick as gou can

Seymour's sketches. 165

STEAMING IT TO MARGATE.
Since the invention of steam, thousands have been tempted to
inhale the saline salubrity of the sea that would never have been
induced to try, and be tried by the experiment of a trip. Like
hams for the market, everybody is now regularly salted and
smoked. The process, too, is so cheap ! The accommodations are
so elegant, and the sailors so smart ! None of the rolling rough
ness of quid-chewing Jack-tars. Jack-tars ! pshaw ! — they
are regular smo&e-jacks on board a steamer ! The Steward
(" waiter " by half the cockneys called) is so ready and obliging ;
and then the " provisions is excellent." Who would not take a
trip to Margate ? There's only one thing that rather adulterates
the felicity — a drop of gall in the cup of mead ! — and that is the
horrid sea-sickness ! learnedly called nostalgia ; but call it by any
name you please, Uke a stray dog, it is pretty sure to come.
The cold perspiration — the internal commotion — the brain's
giddiness — the utter prostration of strength — the  Oh ! I
never shaU forget the death-like feel! — Fat men rolling on the
deck, Uke fresh caught porpoises ; little chUdren floundering
about ; and white musUns and parasols vanishing below ! The
smoking-hot dinner sends up its fumes, and makes the sick more
sick. Soda-water corks are popping and flying about in every
direction, like a miniature battery pointed against the assaults of
the horrid enemy !
" Steward !" faintly cries a fat bUious man, " bring me a glass
of brandy as quick as you can."
But alas ! he who can thus readily " summon spirits " from
"the vasty deep," has no power over the rolling sea, or its
reaches !
" 0 ! my poor pa !" exclaims the interesting Wilhelmina ; and
is so overcome, that she, sweet sympathiser ! is soon " below-pa"
in the ladies' cabin. In fact, the greater part of the pleasure-
seekers are taken — at full length.
Even young ladies from boarding-school, who are thinking of
husbands, declare loudly against maritime delight ! while all the
single young men appear double.

166 Seymour's sketches.
The pier at last appears — and the cargo of drooping souls hail
it with delight, and with as grateful a reference as if they were
received by the greatest peer of the realm !
They hurry from the boat as if 'twere Charon's, and they were
about stepping into the fields of Elysium.
" A change comes o'er the spirit of their dream " — their nerves
are braced ; and so soon are mortal troubles obUterated from the
mind, that in a few days they are ready again to tempt the
terrors of sea-sickness in a voyage homewards — notwithstanding
many of them, in their extremity, had vowed that they never
would return by water, if they outlived the present infliction ;
considering, naturally enough, that it was " all up " with them !

83

7iU/, ,-b- Jig dxade ,ee sfudl letn,tem^ for me
t-~-l -I,,, f rides mn 1.1171 Tianztneth
Oh! eea/ruednt he.se shj/,1 noes nu

Seymour's sketches. 167
AN INTERCEPTED LETTER
FROM
DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE.
eppin — toosday
my dear sam
i've rote this ere for to -let you no i'm in jolly good health and
harty as a brick — and hope my tulip as your as vell  read
this to sal who can't do the same herself seeing as her edication
aint bin in that line— '— give her my love and tell her to take care
o' the kids.  i've got a sUk vipe for sal, tell her; and
suffing for 'em all, for i've made a xlent spec o' the woy'ge and
bagg'd some tin top i can tell you ; and vont ve have a blow out
ven i cums amung you — napps — that's the ass — is particklar veil
and as dun his dooty like a rig'lar flint — i
i rode too races an' needn't say as i vun em for napps is a hout-
anhouter an no mistake ! —
lork ! didn't i make the. natifs stare! and a jentlum as vos by
vanted to oan 'im an offered any blunt for im but walker ! says i
there aint sich a ass as this 'ere hanimal in the hole country —
besides he's like as vun o' me oan famly, for i've brot im up in a
manner, from the time he vos a babby ! — he's up to a move or too
and nows my woice jist for aU the world like a Chrissen. -
Red-nose BiU vot had a nock 'em down here' brings this and
he'U teU you aU about the noose — i shaU foUer it about a veek or
so — teU sal to keep up her sperrits and not to lush vith Bet — i
dont like that ere ooman at aU — a idle wagabone as is going to the
Union Uk vink in — i'm no temperens cove myself as you nose, sam,
but enufs enuf and as good as a feast.
The gintry as taken kervite a likin to napps and me — they
looks upon im as kervite a projidy — for he's licked all the donkies
as run agin im — the vimmen too — (you no my insinnivating vay,
sam,) and nobody nose better than me how to git the right sow
by the ear — no sooner do i see 'em a comin vith their kids, than i

168 Seymour's sketches.
sUps off and doffs my tile, and i says, says i — do let the yung
jentlum have a cast — and then the Uttle 'uns in coorse begins a
pleggin the old 'uns, and — so the jobs done !
— vot's to pay, my good, man ? says she
— oh — nothink, marm, says i, as modest as a turnip new-peeld
— napps is a rig'lar racer — i dont let him hout but i'm so fond o'
children !
— this here flummeree doos the bisnis prime, for the vimmen
comes over the jentlum and a pus is made up for anuther race
— and in coorse i pockets the dibs — cos vy ? — napps is nothink
but a good 'un.
'tother day hearin as there vos an hunt in the naborwood :—
napps, says i — a speakin to my ass — napps ve'll jist- go and look
at 'em —
— vell ve hadnt got no more nor a mUe ven i comes slap alongside
of a starch-up chap upatop of raythur a good lookin' oss — but my
i ! vornt there bellows to mend, and he made no more vay nor a
duck in a gutter. — i says, sir, says i, d'ye think ve shall be in time
for the hunt ?
but he never turns is hed but sets bolt uprite as stiff as pitch
— jist for all the vorld as if his mother had vashed im in starch.
— i twigs his lear in a jiffy — so i says says i " oh — you needn't
be so shy i rides my own hannimal." —
— vich i takes it vos more nor he co'd say, for his vas nothin
more nor a borrod'un and if i dont mistake he was a vitechapler —
i think ive seed im a sarvin out svipes and blue ruin at the gin-
spinners corner o' summerest street or petticut lane — dunno
vitch. —
sam i hates pride so i cuts his company — i says says i — napps
it dont fit — you aint a nunter you're on'y a racer and that chaps
afeard his prad vii be spiled a keeping company vith a ass — least
ways i'm o' the same opinyon in that respec consarning meself
and — so i shaU mizzle.
— a true jentlum as is a jentlum, sam is as different to these here
stuck-up fellers az a sovrin is to a coronashun copper vot's on'y
gilt — veU he turns hof over the left and vips up his animal tryin to
get up a trot — bobbin up and down in his sturrups and.bumpin
bisself to make a show — all flummery ! — he takes the middel o'
the field to hisself, and i cox my i for a houtlet and spi's a gait —

ot

Vtrt icRanv Chap d go eeer id, TuJgc hurt rag
n, legate- to Tide ihrtmgh,-

¦t i iii here's

AN INTERCEPTED LETTER. 169
that's the ticket ! says I ; so Uting the 'bacca and blowing a cloud
I trots along, and had jist cum to the gait ven turnin' round to
look for the gin-spinner, blow me ! sam, if i didn't see the cove
a-goin heels over head over an edge — 'like a tumbler at bartlmy fare;
— vile his preshus hanimal vos a takin it cooly in the meddo !
"VOT A RUM CHAP"— says i, a larfin reddy to bust—
" VOT A RUM CHAP TO GO OVER THE 'EDGE THAT VAY ! VEN HERE'S
A RIGLAR GAIT TO RIDE THROUGH !"
— and so, i driv on, but somehow, sam, i' couldn't help a thinkin
as praps the waggerbun had broke his nek — stif as it vos ! and
so i said to napps — " napps " — says i — " lets go and look arter the
warmint for charity's sake " —
— napps vots as good-natur'd a ass as his master, didn't make
no obstacle and so ve vent —
— my i ! — sam, i'd a stood a kervorten and three outs ad you
a bin there ! — there vos my jentlum up to his nek in a duckpond
lookin' as miserrable as a scrag o' mutton in a batter puddin' —
" halp ! halp !" says he, a spittin' the green veeds out .of his
mouth — " halp me, faUer, and i'U stand a bob " or summat to that
effeck. — but i couldn't hold out my fin to him for larfin — and napps
begun a brayin at sich a rate — vich struck me as if he vos a larfin
too, and made me larf wusser than ever —
— veil, at last, i contrivis to lug him out, and a preshus figger
he cut to be sure  he had a kervite a new suit o'black mud,
vich didn't smeU particlar sveet i can teU you.
— " ain't hurt yourself ?" says i, " have you ?"
— "no" — says' he — "but i'm dem wet and utterably spiled"
— or vords like that for be chewd 'em so fine i couldn't rightly
hit 'em.
— ater i'd scraped him a little descent, and he'd tip'd a hog —
vich vos rayther hansum — i ax'd him vere he left his tile ?
" tile ?" — says he — a gogglin' his i's and openin' his jaws like
a dyin' oyster "yes — your castor" — says i, "your beaver— your
hat." " oh !" — says he, p'inting dismal to the pond — " gone to the
devU d — me !" — so vith that he takes out a red and yaller vipe, and
ties it about his hed, lookin' for all the vorld like an apple-ooman. 22

170 SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES.
— as he had come down hansum i in coorse offer'd to ketch his
prad vich va'n't much difficulty — and up he jumps and lepped with
a squosh into the saddle — and rid off without as much as sayin'
by your leave — good luck to you or anythink else 
— veU, this here vos the end and upshot o' that day's fun for I
vos too late for the start by ten minnits — i saw 'em goin' it at a
distance so i takes a sight ! — but i had too much valley for napps
to put im to it so as to get up with 'em — or he might a done it —
praps !
— i've lived like a fightin cock and am as fatt as butter— but
the race is goin' to begin in a hour and i must go & ketch napps
who's a grazin on the commun and looks oncommon veU — so no
more at present from Yours, my prime 'un, dick slammer.

It orte

m

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES. 171

NOBBS' AND DOBBS' MISADVENTURE.
GONE!
Along the banks, at early dawn,
Trudged Nobbs and Nobbs's son,
With rod and line, resolved that day
Great fishes should be won.
At last they came unto a bridge,
Cried Nobbs, " Oh this is fine !"
And feeUng sure 'twould answer weU,
He dropp'd the stream a line.
" We cannot find a fitter place,
If twenty miles we march ;
It's very look has fix'd my choice,
So knowing and — so arch !"
He baited and he cast his line,
When soon, to his delight,
He saw his float bob up and down,
And lo ! he had a bite !
" A gudgeon, Tom, I think it is !"
Cried Nobbs, " Here take the prize ;
It weighs a pound — in its own 'scales,
I'm quite sure by its size."
He cast again his baited hook,
And drew another up !
And cried, " We are in luck to-day,
How glorious we shaU sup !"
AU in a basket Tommy stow'd
The piscatory spoil ;
Says Nobbs, " We've netted two at least,
Albeit we've no toil."
22—2

172 Seymour's sketches.
Amazed at his own luck, he threw
The tempting bait again,
And presently a nibble had —
A bite ! he pull'd amain !
His rod beneath the fish's weight
Now bent just like a bow,
" What's this ?" cried Nobbs ; his son replied,
" A salmon, 'tis, I know."
And sure enough a monstrous perch,
Of six or seven pounds,
He from the water drew, whose bulk
Both dad and son confounds.
" 0 ! Gemini !" he said, when he
" 0 ! Pisces !" should have cried ;
And tremblingly the wriggling fish
Haul'd to the bridge's side.
When lo ! just as he stretched his hand
To grasp the perch's fin,
The slender line was snapp'd in twain,
The perch went tumbling in !
" Gone ! gone ! by gosh !" scream'd Nobbs, while Tom
Too eager forward bent,
And, with a kick, their basket quick
Into the river sent.

86

Lang Itgiltteheid/tdil tin. last '

Seymour's sketches. 173

DUNGHILL SPORTING.
FINAL ADVENTURE.
Dick Grubb always ventured further than I dared ; I ever had
a respect for my character, so did not shoot at cocks on dunghUls ;
but any advice which I could give him did not restrain his ardour.
One day, thank Heaven I was not out with him, he pelted away
at some ducks in a pond, behind a cottage, and killed a drake,
which was more than the Spanish Armada could do with his
namesake the Admiral, who, by the by, was a most praiseworthy
fellow, for the greater part of the money he earned on salt water,
he generously spent in fresh water, for the town of Plymouth.
To- return to Dick Grubb: he had settled the drake's business,
but Mr. Jobber the proprietor of the cottage, hearing the report
of a gun and an ominous quack, which implied that a regular
doctor would be of no use, let loose his dog, who scampered after
him^ Jolter the while crying out vociferously, " Dang it, Pincher,
hold un fast." Dick quickly made his way up a tree, under the
notion that he should escape an immediate bite from Snarler ;
Jolter followed with his cart- whip, and the result, I regret to say,
was extremely mortifying and sorely painful to my unfortunate
friend, as well as inconveniently inflictive on his slender purse.
This adventure closed his sporting enthusiasm for the season.

FINIS.

BIIXINO, PRINTER, GUILDFORD SURREY.

THLC UhlYLHOM ¦ ...^RARY

3 9002 01344 6035

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