Part 3

Andrew I wot, for so his name was spelt, Was born (but this perchance you have surmised) In London town:--in Adam Street he dwelt, Which _all_ Eve's sons have not _Mc Adamized_.

As scaling--love impell'd, a lofty wall, One luckless night, he fell, in vast alarm; But caught a beam, and haply _broke_ his fall, For which his fall retorting, _broke_ his arm.

What chances may befal none may foretell; All are the sport of destiny unknown; Thus Andrew kept the "_Mason's Arms_" full well, But was not able to preserve his _own_.

Still he was not discouraged, even although His love had so unluckily began; But taking soon a chance of joy or woe In Hymen's lottery, _Andrew_ drew forth _Ann_.

Quiet they lived, and happily, 'tis said, From all domestic strife and discord far; Andrew laid down the _Law_, and Ann obey'd, For he, she knew, was bred up to the _Bar_.

Quoth Andrew to his wife one summer's day: "My dear, if you approve, I have a scheme, To take a trip while all the world are gay, To Margate, love, and we can go by _Steam_.

My honest cousin John, who is, you know, A quiet kind of lad, and free from sin, Has kindly promised, if we like to go, While we are _out_, to take care of the _Inn_."

She liked his project much, but did not know That _steam_ was then the order of the age; She thought they should, like Fanny Kemble, go, Or, like the Elephant, upon the _stage_.

Here Andrew differ'd from his quiet spouse, Mild as she was, and gentle as he thought her; Said he "The _steam_ as every one allows, Impels one far more quickly through the _water_."

"But if the boiler burst, which much I fear, Then we, and all the rest, in air are blown." Quoth Andrew, "No: if that should hap, my dear; Instead of going _up_ we should go _down_."

"Really, my love," said Ann, "with joke and fun You draw such scenes as surely never man drew, And are in fact so _merry_ with your fun, That I should take you for a _Merry Andrew_."

Now by the water side--a noted part-- A tavern stands, which men have christen'd "Ship," And hence 'twas needful that our friends should start, The following day, for their intended trip.

Therefore, when Sol had risen, so had they For they were early, like the sun, and steady: And when the _Steam-boat came_ beside the quay, Andrew, his luggage, and his wife, were ready.

The hour had now arrived, and all was life: The waiter said the _packet_ was _afloat_; The bills were paid, and Andrew and his wife Now left the _Ship_, and hastened to the _boat_.

They'd no idea of such a crowd i'fecks! When they embarked, for no one had yet told'em; There were three hundred people on the decks, The cabin and the _hold_ would hardly _hold_'em.

The vessel started soon,--her every chink Filled up with luggage, women, boys and men; Swiftly she cut the spray, you cannot think What _whey_ (way) she made upon the water then.

Ah, Master Andrew! you could not divine The woe of sailing when the wind's not aft; Or you'd have been more _crafty_, I opine, Than ever to have entered such a _craft_.

'Twas summer, yet the wind was passing cool; The Captain frown'd, and looked exceeding cross; The vessel, like some boys I knew at school, Was playing with the waves at _pitch_ and _toss_.

There was a dandy there--you scarce could tell It was a wig he wore; the _beau_ did right To go to Truefit's, for it fitted well, All Truefit's wigs, I'm told, _fit true_ and tight.

Two men were arguing, with wooden legs, No doubt each thought the other was mistaken; The cabin boy let fall a plate of _eggs_ And broke them all, although he saved his _bacon_.

There were some ladies as it often haps, Both plebeian and patrician--high and low-- And Andrew thought that many set their _caps_ At the young men, in hopes to catch a _beau_.

There were some _butcher's_ daughters, wondrous proud Of their sweet persons!--pride I must condemn-- Who once or twice were heard to say aloud, That nothing in the ship was _meet_ for them.

Now the good vessel, keeping on her way, Had one effect on Andrew and his wife; Who were, not sick to death, as some would say-- But sick enough to make them sick of life.

All this to Andrew and his Spouse, I trow, Was novelty--and yet it had no charms, For both, before the night, were heard to vow They wished they had not left the Mason's Arms.

Close to the rails they stood--and you might see Their notions of delight began to waver; When Andrew's wife fell over in the sea, And might have drown'd; but Andrew shouted "Save her!"

Perhaps you think he jumped into the water; No, gentle reader, no; that would not do: _You_ might have done so for a wife or daughter, But _you_ are _one_, and _you_ and Andrew, _two_.

But some one seeing that he was no lover Of aught save eating, drinking, and his life, Came close behind the man and pushed him over, With "Don't you see, you brute, go save your wife."

Just at the time a little vessel passed, (Andrew had caught his wife)--it was the Percy; The captain thought it best to put about, And _take them in_, for they were crying mercy!

The _Steam-boat_ kept her way, although the wind was bad, Margate they made, the crew cried "That's your sort!" The band struck up a tune, the rest were glad As tipplers would be, to get at the _Port_.

But Andrew and Spouse, just as they were About to sink, and thought that they were undone, Got safe on board the Percy--wind was fair, And the tight little boat, was on its way to London.

She soon arrived, of time there was no loss, The sailors rowed them quickly to the land And now, five miles at least from _Charing Cross_, Stood Andrew and his Spouse upon the _Strand_.

They hastened home, for home had many charms; Thither they went, and none could well go faster; For Andrew knew full well the Mason's _Arms_ Were always _open_ to receive their master.

They'd _seen_ enough of _sea_; and their immersion In the _salt-sea_ wave had pickled them so well, They never made another _sea_ excursion; And therefore _you see_! I've but little more to tell.

From that day forth, when Andrew and his wife Disputed, which was often it would seem, His spouse replied, "Remember, pray, my life, That 'tis not always best _to go by Steam_!"

My tale is done,--about a week ago When passing through the City, I heard tell That "Andrew and his Spouse" were dead, and so _Bow bell_ was tolling for this _Beau_ and _Belle_.

MORAL.

Hereafter then, when'er we need advice About a journey to the East or West; We must obey our spouses in a trice, And _always do_ what _they_ imagine best.

"BEHIND TIME."

"_Coach, Sir! Lord love your soul, the coach has been gone these three quarters of an hour; it's the most regglarest coach as is, and always starts to a minute!_"

"_You dont say so! Lawks! vot a precious row my vife vill kick up! She's a coming arter me as fast as she can trot!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"HARD TIMES."

"_I say, SHUFFLETON, these d--d Overseers pay no respect to Persons!_"

"_No, DOCTOR, nor to PARSONS either!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"TERM TIME."

"_Gentlemen, it was a very fine Oyster, indeed! The Court awards you a shell each!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"TIME COME!"

"_Time! Bring him up, TOM! JACK can't stand another round!_"

"_With a hook! I'm blow'd if he ha'nt 'cut his stick!_'"

"_A guinea to a shilling on JACK! Time's up! It's all over! JACK'S won the day! I'm blest if we shan't all be lagged!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"TAKING TIME BY THE FORE-LOCK."

"_I say, BILL, I've got his ticker: pull his precious nob off!_"

"_I'm sniggered if I don't!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"PUDDING TIME."

"_Ha, Snooks, we had given you up altogether!_"

"_I thought you said four o'clock, my dear fellow?_"

"_So I did, but it is now five._"

"_Yes, but four always means five._"

"_Not with those who tell the truth, and as I am one of that sort, you will know I mean what I say in future; but sit down 'better late than never.'--Mary bring the fragments._"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"WASTE OF TIME."

"_Scrub away, Jenny! I'll warrant we get the dirty toad white?_"

"_O, Missee! your water so dam hot, you scald poor Sambo!_"

"_Drat your black carcase! we'll make something of you at last, if we skin you! Go it, Molly! rub his life time out!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

"CHRISTMAS TIMES."

"_You arn't the rigglar Dustman, blow ye! For a farden I'd break your blessed conk!_"

"_I'm as good a Dustman as you any day in the veek, my tulip!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_."

THE QUEAN WOT CLAIMS THE BREECHES.

The young and old, the short and tall, In poverty or riches; One common aim prevails with all-- 'Tis who shall wear the breeches!

This lovely, winning creature scan, To wives a bright example! Mark on the boasted "Rights of Man," How she presumes to trample,

Poor Henpeck! what shall shield you now, In fortune's fickle weather, If you surrender to your frow The covering of your nether?

Reduced by this ignoble deed, To petticoats' stern sway; To play the tyrant is her creed, And yours is to obey.

Farewell, poor fellow--by the bye, To keep her system placid, Suppose you tip her, on the sly, A little prussic acid.

A very moderate dose will do, To make her calm and quiet: And, if you wish to tame that shrew, Make haste, my boy, and try it.

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_."

SUMMARY DIVORCE.

Now ponder well, ye tender wives, As you would shun disasters, And as you wish for peaceful lives, Thwart not your lords and masters.

If late from home they chance to stop, Avoid all vain conjectures; And, if they've had a little drop, Refrain from curtain lectures.

A scolding tongue will ne'er reclaim A man from idle courses; But often leads to grief and shame, And Summary Divorces.

These evils flow from angry words-- Then try not such expedients; Besides, you know, you owe your lords Love, honour, and obedience!

Ah! tell us, Dame, for what offence Your Spouse, in all his glory, Is using such strong arguments, And "a posteriori."

What have you said or done, alas! Or what have you neglected? That thus by speedy habeas, You're forcibly ejected.

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_."

"BARRING A BAD CUSTOMER;

OR,

A SCORE BEHIND!"

BONIFACE: "_Mizzle, you warmint, you an't paid your old score; No more chalk here!--so take that!_"

CHERRY RIPE: "_My eye, what a toucher!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_."

"TAKING THE LAW IN HER OWN HANDS;

OR,

SERVING AN EJECTMENT ON A TROUBLESOME TENANT."

"_Come along, you old willain; I'll teach you to be going arter the wenches; I'll shew you who wears the breeches you--!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_."

"THE THIMBLE RIG;

OR,

HOW TO BONNET A FLAT!"

_"Now, then, my jolly Sportsman! I've got more money than the Parson of the parish! Those as don't play can't vin and those as are here arn't there! I'd hould any of you, from a tanner to a soverin, or ten, as you don't tell which thimble the pea is under." "It's there, Sir"--"I barr tellings"--"I'll go it again."--"Vat you don't see don't look at, and what you do see don't tell. I'll hould you a soverin, Sir, that you don't tell me vitch thimble the pea is under."--"Lay him, Sir (in a whisper); it's under the middle'un I'll go you halves."--"Lay him another; that's right."--I'm blow'd but we've lost: who'd a thought it!"--Smack goes the flat's hat over his eyes; exit the confederates with a loud laugh._

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_."

"FLYING DUSTMEN."

"The Dustman's cart offends thy clothes and eyes, When through the street a cloud of ashes flies."--GAY.

_Go it, BOB!--pull away?--here's the TRAPS;--cut away, my kiddy, good luck to you!--Kim aup, Neddy!--kim aup!--blow you, kim aup!--That's the ticket!_

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_."

"THE APPROACH OF CHRISTMAS."

"_Well to be sure, that is a picture! I must have a sirloin for Christmas-day. It warms the cockles of one's heart to think of it!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_."

"COLOUR!--FORM!--FIGURE!"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_."

"COMBATIVENESS."

"_You be smothered, you old Brimstome!--barring I'm a thief, and fond of the men, what can you say to my prejudice?_"

"_Get out you wagabond! get out, you circumwenting old fish-fag!_"

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_."

SYMPTOMS OF DRAWING:--

THE LOBSTERS' CLAUSE;

OR,

THE NEW POLICE BILL.

I sing, I sing, of the new bill, sir, That to the people seems a pill, sir, And shortly I'll relate its clauses, That you may know what the police law is. First and foremost, in a straight line running, For fifteen miles it will stop your funning, From Charing Cross, which ever way you turn, sir, If you infringe, your fingers you'll burn, sir. Oh, dear, oh, dear! they're better off in Greece, sir, Free from this Metropolitan New Police, sir.

All the people who used to show, sir, Traps on the pavement, will find it no go, sir, And now within their shop or dwelling, Their odd-cum-shorts they must be selling, If maids after eight their mats should beat, sir, At the treadmill they'll have a treat, And, if little boys roll hoops, or fly kites, sir, They'll be lock'd up seven days and nights, sir.

Oh, dear, &c.

TWELFTH DAY IN LONDON;

OR,

PAYING FOR A PEEP.

"TWELFTH DAY."

Such are the scenes, that, at the front and the side Of the Twelfth-Cake-Shops, scatter wild dismay; As up the slipp'ry curb, or pavement wide, We seek the pastrycooks, to keep Twelfth day; While ladies stand aghast, in speechless trance, Look round--dare not go back--and yet dare not advance.

HONE'S "_Every-Day Book_."

BEFORE AND AFTER MARRIAGE; OR, RINGING THE CHANGES.

"_Say but the word, my dear Susan, and you're mine for ever; we shall be as happy as the day is long!_"

"_Out o' my sight, you villain! I wish I had never seen your ugly mug--you have been the curse of my life!_"

AN OSTLER, ALIAS OATSTEALER; OR, A HINT TO TRAVELLERS.

TRAVELLER: "_Having made myself comfortable, I must now look to my nag, for these ostlers are sorry dogs._"

OSTLER: "_Aye, you may look, old Bald-face; but as you can't tell no tales, why, its better you should go without your feed than I without my pot._"

MUSIC HATH CHARMS TO SOOTH THE SAVAGE BREAST.

"_I love music, and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy myself--besides its a charity to my sick neighbour: it will soothe him to a gentle slumber!_"

"_Oh, dear! oh, dear--was ever poor devil so tortured!--that infernal noise will be the death of me!_"

BULLS AND NO JOKES;

OR,

GALLANTRY ON THE GALLOP.

"_Johnny, you wretch! you're not going to leave me here with these 'orned hanimals? For the love you bear me, come back and help me over!"--"I'm blessed if I do!--'number one' is the first law of nature, so here goes! Come along Fowler!_"

DR. BOLUS, OR THE LAST PILL.

_----Throw physic to the dogs:--I'll none of it._

"_'Twill DO for you, my good friend--it is an infallible remedy for all diseases!_"

LONDON IN THE DOG DAYS.

"_Hulloa! take care of that ere dog, I'm blow'd if he arn't as mad as a March hare! He's bolted with his mistress's kittle, and I'm splashed if he arn't got the HYDRAPHOBIA, or he wouldn't go past the pump in such a hurry._"

PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE!

"_Why, I say, Popjoy, ha'nt you had a bite all day?_"

"_No._"

SEASONABLE AMUSEMENTS;

OR,

"SPORTING A TOE" ON THE ICE.

Sport that wrinkled care derides, And laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe.

MILTON'S "_L'Allegro_."

PITY THE FROZE OUT GARDENERS.

"_Pity the froze out gardeners!_"--"_I will my poor fellows. I'll provide you with a WARM reception when you come to me._"

THE COBBLER AND HIS DOXY.

A COBBLER I am, and my name is Dick Awl, I'm a bit of a beast, for I live in a _stall_! With an ugly old wife, and a tortoise-shell cat, I _mends_ boots and shoes, with a rat a tat tat.

This morning, at breakfast, on bacon and spinage, Says I, to my wife, "I'm going to Greenwich," Says she, "Dickey Awl, aye and I will go too;" Says I, "Mrs. Awl, I'll be d----d if you do."

A GREENWICH MUTINEER.

[_Taken from life during the Mutiny at Greenwich Hospital on the Birthday of his present Majesty._]

"_Shiver my timbers!--here's a go!--no grog on the King's Birthday!--I'm blest if I don't strike!_"

ENGLISH BEER.

King William and Reform, I say, In such a case who can be neuter? Just let me blow the froth away, And see how I will drain the pewter.

Another tankard, landlord, fill, And let us drink to that ere chap, Broom; And then we'll chaunt God save King Bill, And send the echoes thro' the tap-room.

FRENCH BRANDY.

Ah ha, Mr. Englishman! voyez ici, De grandest specific to banish ennui, Begar is a bumper of French eau de vie. So here's the Rost Bif of Old England, Wash'd down by the pure Cogniac.

IRISH WHISKEY.

Och! Judy dear, a fig for beer, The pleasure sure is greater, When you are dry, to bung your eye With quarterns of the "cratur!"

JAMAICA RUM.

Tho' Whiskey may be priz'd by some, And others sing the praise of Jackey, There's nothing like Jamaica Rum, To warm your dingy frame, Old Blackee.

WHAT A SHOCKING BAD HAT.

What object meets my wondering gaze, That knew, I doubt not, better days? How chang'd in form, alas! from that-- Oh, "What a shocking bad Hat!"

WHAT A SHOCKING BAD BONNET.

She is quizz'd by the girls--she is smok'd by the boys-- And her ears are saluted by squalling and noise; While some lad with a tray, and a sheep's head upon it, Shouts out, "There she goes with a shocking bad bonnet!"

THE LONG-SONG SELLER.

----"Here ye are my ready money customers; you have 'em here at THREE YARDS A PENNY. First of all:--

Here's "Jolly nose," "Begone dull care," "Black Bess," "What are you at" now? "My mother bids me bind my hair," "How droll!" "All round my hat" now! "Cease, ye pretty warbling choir," "True as is the needle," "And ye shall walk in silk attire," With "The Parish Beadle!"

"A dainty life the fairy leads," "When stars their watch are keeping;" "In peace love tunes the shepherd's reed," "Dear maid, while thou art sleeping!" "When night-stars dance their fairy rays," And here my batch I cry out,-- "Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings," "There you go with your eye out!"

HOGARTH'S PIEMAN.

We frequently meet with the pieman in old prints; and in Hogarth's "March to Finchley," there he stands in the very centre of the crowd, grinning with delight at the adroitness of one robbery, while he is himself the victim of another. We learn from this admirable figure by the greatest painter of English life, that the pieman of the last century perambulated the streets in professional costume; and we gather further, from the burly dimensions of his wares that he kept his trade alive by the laudable practice of giving "a good pennyworth for a penny." Justice compels us to observe that his successors of a later generation have not been very conscientious observers of this maxim.

YOUNG LAMBS TO SELL.

Young lambs to sell! young lambs to sell. If I'd as much money as I could tell, I'd not come here with young lambs to sell! Dolly and Molly, Richard and Nell, Buy my young lambs, and I'll use you well!

The engraving represents an old "London Crier," one William Liston, from a drawing for which he purposely _stood_ in 1826.

This "public character" was born in the City of Glasgow. He became a soldier in the waggon-train commanded by Colonel Hamilton, and served under the Duke of York in Holland, where, on the 6th of October, 1799, he lost his right arm and left leg, and his place in the army. His misfortunes thrust distinction upon him. From having been a private in the ranks, where he would have remained undistinguished, he became one of the popular street-characters of his day.

BUY A BROOM!--BUY A BROOM!

Buy a Broom? was formerly a very popular London-cry, when it was usually rendered thus:--"_Puy a Proom, puy a prooms? a leetle one for ze papy, and a pig vons for ze lady: Puy a Proom?_" Fifty years ago Madame Vestris charmed the town by her singing--

From Teutchland I came with my light wares all laden, To dear happy England in summer's gay bloom, Then listen, fair lady, and young pretty maiden, O buy of the wand'ring Bavarian a broom. Buy a broom, buy a broom, (_Spoken_) buy a broom, O buy of the wand'ring Bavarian a broom.

To brush away insects that sometimes annoy you, You'll find them quite handy by night or by day, And what better exercise pray can employ you, Than to sweep all vexatious intruders away.--Buy a broom, &c.

Ere winter comes on for sweet home departing, My toils for your favour again I'll resume; And while gratitude's tears in my eye-lids are starting, Bless the time that in England I cried buy a broom. (_Spoken_)--Yes I shall go back to my own country, and tell them there that I sold all my wares in England, singing-- Buy a broom, &c.

But time and fashion has _swept_ both the brooms and the girls from our shores.--Madame Vestris lies head-to-head with Charles Mathews in Kensal Green Cemetery. _Tempus omnia revelat._

THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.