any failing, it is what has given the beautiful vermilion tint to that which, as it forms the most prominent feature in his appearance, is made one of the most prominent features of my memoir. As a crier, I never liked him-his voice is too piano, and wants a little of the forte. In religion, Hut. is a stanch supporter of the establishment, and regularly attends divine service at St. Mary-le-Bow, where "his reverence" is allowed an exalted seat in the organ gallery, in which place, but for his services, I fear my friend, Mr. Weatherell, the organist, would have difficulty in draw ing a single tone from the instrument. His aversion to dissenters is tremendous, and he is unsparing in his censure of those who do not conform to the church; yet, notwithstanding this, both Catholics and Unitarians unaccountably rank amongst his prebends. In politics, he is a whig of the old school, and abominates the radicals. At elections, (for he has a vote both for county and city, being a leaseholder for lives, and a freeman,) he always supports Michael Angelo Taylor and Mr. Lambton. He prides himself on his integrity, and I believe justly, for he is one that will never be bought or sold; if thousands were offered to him to obtain his vote, he would spurn the bribe, and throw the glittering ore in the faces of those who dared to insult his independent spirit. It may amuse the reader, if I offer the following as a specimen of the ridiculous interruptions Hut. meets with when crying. THREE RINGS-Ding dong! ding dong! ding dong! Hut. To be sold by auction 1 Boy. Speak up! speak up! Hut. Hut. Hod your jaw-at the Queen's heed in 2 Boy. The town of Butterby. Hut. I'll smash your heed wi' the bellthe Queen's heed in the Bailya—a large collection of— 3 Boy. Pews, pulpits, and organs. Hut. I'll rap your canister. - of valuable-buiks the property of 1 Boy. The bishop of Butterby. Hut. Be quiet, you scamp-of a gentleman from Lunnon the buiks may be viewed any time between the hours of one and three, by applying to 2 Boy. Tommy Sly Hut. Mr. Thwaites on the premises: the sale to commence at seven o'clock in the evening prizizely. All. Huih! hooeh! hooeh! Hut. I'll smash some o' your heeds wi' the bell-I knaw thee, Jack!-mind, an' I doant tell thee mither noo, thou daft fule! This farce is usually acted every day in the streets of Durham; and to be truly enjoyed it should be witnessed. Having nothing more of my own to say, I shall conclude this sketch in the language of Rousseau.-"Voilà ce que j'ai fait, ce que j'ai pensé. J'ai dit le bien et le mal avec la même franchise. Je n'ai rien tû de mauvais, rien ajouté de bon; et s'il m'est arrivé d'employer quelque ornement indifférent, ce n'a jamais été que pour remplir un ruide occasionné par mon défaut de mémoire; j'ai pu supposer vrai ce que je savois avoir pu l'être jamais ce que je savois être faux." * R. I. P. the above character is held by the inhabitTo show the high estimation in which correspondent relates, that on Saturday ants of Durham and Northumberland, a last a select party of gentlemen connected legal and medical professions, dined at the with the above counties, and chiefly of the Queen's-head tavern, Holborn; where, after gentleman present proposed the health of the healths of the king and royal family, a "the Rev. Dr. Alderson, bishop of Butterby." In the course of the introductory acquirements, and to his lustrous qualities speech, allusion was made to Hut.'s many as a living ornament of the ancient city of Durham. The toast was drunk amid the most enthusiastic applause, and a dignitary of "Butterby-church" returned thanks for the honour conferred on his exalted dio cesan. March 12, 1827. THE DRAYMAN. Lie heavy on him, earth! for he The drayman is a being distinct from other men, as the brewer's horse is distinct from other horses-each seems adapted to the other's use the one eats abundantly of grains, and prospers in its traces-the other drinks porter by the canful, and is hardly able to button his jerkin. Much of a dray * Les Confessions, part, i, liv, i, +375 man's life is spent with his master's team and barrels. Early rising is his indispensable duty; and, long ere the window-shutters of London shopkeepers are taken down, he, with his fellow stavesmen, are seen half way through the streets to the vender of what is vulgarly called "heavy wet." Woe to the patience of a crowd, waiting to cross the roadway, when the long line, in clattering gear, are passing review, like a troop of unyielding soldiers. The driver, with his whip, looks as important as a sergeant-major; equipped in his coat of mail, the very pavement trembles with his gigantic tread.* Sometimes his comrades ride on the shaft and sleep, to the imminent risk of their lives. Arrived at their destination, they move a slow and sure pace, which indicates that "all things should be taken easy," for "the world was not made in a day." The cellar being the centre of gravity, the empty vessels are drawn out, and the full ones drawn in; but with as much science as would require Hercules himself to exercise, and Bacchus to improve. After these operations are performed, what a sight it is to behold the drayman at work over his breakfast, in the taproom if the weather is cold, or on a bench in view of a prospect, if the sunshine appears: the hunch of bread and meat, or a piece of cheese deposited in the hollow of his hand, which he divides into no small portions, are enough to pall the appetite. The manner in which he clenches the frothy pot, and conducts it to his mouth, and the long draft he takes, in gurgles down his unshorn, summer-like throat, almost warrant apprehensions of supply not being equal to demand, and consequent advance of price. He is an entire proof of the lusty quality of his master's porter, for he is the largest opium-pill in the brewhouse dispensary. While feeding on the fat of the publican's larder, his horses are shaking up the corn, so unfeelingly crammed in hair-bags, to their reeking nostrils. The drayman is a sort of rough give and take fellow; he uses the whip in a brangle, and his sayings are sometimes, like himself, rather dry. When he returns to the brew house, he is to be found in the stable, at the vat, and in the lower apartments. To guard against cold, he prefers a red nightcap to a Welsh wig, and takes great care of *I am here reminded of an old epigram on a "Fat Doctor," in the Christmas Treat, xxxiii. "When Tadloe treads the streets, the paviers cry "God bless you, sir!' and lay their rammers by." the grains, without making scruples. He "Care to our coffin adds a nail no doubt, An old dog's-eared song-book is the com- J. R. P. If prudent, thou may'st know the world; if wise, The peril of thy soul in this world fear, But yet th' Almighty's wondrous work revere ; The Royal Table. ORIGIN OF WITH THE COOKS' NAMES. King George II. was accustomed every other year to visit his German dominions with the greater part of the officers of his household, and especially those belonging to the kitchen. Once on his passage at sea, his first cook was so ill with the seasickness, that he could not hold up his head to dress his majesty's dinner; this being told to the king, he was exceedingly sorry for it, as he was famous for making a Rhenish soup, which his majesty was very fond of; he therefore ordered inquiry to be made among the assistant-cooks, if any of them could make the above soup. One named Weston (father of Tom Weston, the player) undertook it, and so pleased the king, that he declared it was full as good as that made by the first cook. Soon after the king's return to England, the first cook died; when the king was informed of it, he said, that his steward of the household always appointed his cooks, but that he would now name one for himself, and therefore asking if one Weston was still in the kitchen, and being answered that he was, "That man," said he, "shall be my first cook, for he makes most excellent Rhenish soup." This favour begot envy among all the servants, so that, when any dish was found fault with, they used to say it was Weston's dressing: the king took notice of this, and said to the servants, it was very extraordinary, that every dish he disliked should happen to be Weston's; "in future," said he, "let every dish be marked with the name of the cook that makes it." By this means the king detected their arts, and from that time Weston's dishes pleased him most. The custom has continued ever since, and is still practised at the king's table. MONEY-WEIGHTS AND POUND, is derived from the Latin word pondus. OUNCE, from 'uncia, or twelfth, being the twelfth of a pound troy. INCH, from the same word, being the twelfth of a foot. YARD, from the Saxon word gyrd, or girth, being originally the circumference of the body, until Henry I. decreed that it should be the length of his arm. HALFPENNY and FARTHING. In 1060, when William the Conqueror began to reign, the PENNY, or sterling, was cast, with a deep cross, so that it might be broken in half, as a HALF-penny, or in quarters, for Fourthings, or Farthings, as we now call them. OLD MUG-HOUSES. The internal economy of a mug-house in the reign of George I. is thus described by a foreign traveller :— At the mug-house club in Long-acre,where on Wednesdays a mixture of gentlemen, lawyers, and tradesmen meet in a great room, a grave old gentleman in his grey hairs, and nearly ninety years of age, is their president, and sits in an armed chair some steps higher than the rest. A harp plays all the while at the lower end of the room; and now and then some one of the company rises and entertains the rest with a song, (and by the by some are good masters.) Here is nothing drank but ale, and every gentleman chalks on the table as it is brought in: every one also, as in a coffeehouse, retires when he pleases. N. B. In the time of the parliament's sitting, there are clubs composed of the members of the commons, where most affairs are digested before they are brought into the house. "AS DRUNK AS DAVID'S SOW." A few years ago, one David Lloyd, a Welchman, who kept an inn at Hereford, had a living sow with six legs, which occasioned great resort to the house. David also had a wife who was much addicted to drunkenness, and for which he used frequently to bestow on her an admonitory drubbing. One day, having taken an extra cup which operated in a powerful manner, and dreading the usual consequences, she opened the stye-door, let out David's sow, and lay down in its place, hoping that a short unmolested nap would sufficiently dispel the fumes of the liquor. In the mean time, however, a company arrived to view the so much talked of animal; and Davy, proud of his office, ushered them to the stye, exclaiming, "Did any of you ever see such a creature before?"" Indeed, Davy," said one of the farmers," I never before saw a sow so drunk as thine in all my life!"Hence the term as drunk as David's Sow." 66 HAGBUSH LANE. Poor HAGBUSH LANE! thy ancient charms are going And donkey drivers fight their dogs at ease, If that be taste which darkens ev'ry field; Thy garden too shall likewise be displac'd, And no more "cabbage" to its master yield; But, in its stead, some new Vauxhall perchance Shall rise, renown'd for pantomime and dance! III. HIGHGATE." Already, HIGHGATE to thy skirts they bear Bricks, mortar, timber, in no small degree, And thy once pure, exhilarating air Is growing pregnant with impurity!! The would-be merchant has his " country box' A few short measures from the dusty road, Where friends on Sunday talk about the stocks, Or praise the beauties of his "neat abode :" One deems the wall-flow'r garden, in the front, Unrivall'd for each aromatic bed; Another fancies that his old sow's grunt "Is so much like the country," and instead Of living longer down in Crooked-lane, Resolves, at once, to "ruralize" again! Islington. J. G. On the west side of Hampstead, in the middle of one of the pleasant meadows called Shepherd's fields, at the left-hand of the footpath going from Belsize-house towards the church, this arch, embedded above and around by the green turf, forms a conduit-head to a beautiful spring: the specific gravity of the fluid, which yields several tuns a day, is little more than that of distilled water. Hampstead abounds in other springs, but they are mostly impregnated with mineral substances. The water of "Shepherd's well," therefore, is in continual request, and those who cannot otherwise conveniently obtain it, are supplied through a few of the villagers, who make a scanty living by carrying it to houses for a penny a pail-full. There is no carriage-way to VOL. I.-13. the spot, and these poor things have much hard work for a very little money. I first knew this spring in my childhood, when domiciled with a relation, who then occupied Belsize-house, by being allowed to go with Jeff the under-gardener, whose duty it was to fetch water from the spring. As I accompanied him, so a tame magpie accompanied me: Jeff slouched on with his pails and yoke, and my ardour to precede was restrained by fear of some ill happening to Mag if I did not look after the rogue. He was a wayward bird, the first to follow wherever I went, but always according to his own fashion; he never put forth his speed till he found himself a long way behind, so that Jeff always led the van, and Mag always brought up |
