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his company being now upon terms, he ordered in biscuits for the monkeys, and buns for the bears; not forgetting some nuts for his friend, Jackimo, who waited for the musician's nod before he ventured 'to crack one of them. He then inquired of the bear-ward what his four-footed companion would like to drink? Upon which the keeper consulted his oracle, and received a reply which set the room in a roar- that a jug of home-brewed, with a toast and sugar, would be supremely acceptable! Uncle Timothy started, conceiving Bruin to have suddenly become possessed of Balaam's miraculous quality : but the mystery was soon explained; the keeper being a ventriloquist, and this one of his Bartlemy fair tricks.
'Pray, gentlemen,' said Uncle Timothy, by what means do you make these animals so apprehensive and docile? I fear there is some cruelty in the case.'
"No cruelty at all, good sir,' replied the lecturing musician, who was the organ of the company. 'It is your Smithfield drovers and butchers as is cruel! We prac-lise the soothing system. We don't larn our hanimals to dance on red-hot iron plates, as our aunt's sisters (ancestors ?) did. Now that 'ere monkey o'mine ; I soon found out which way the cat jumped with him. Never was sich a wain little cove! It costs me a fortin in starch to stiffen his shirt collars; and if any on 'em is in the least limp, my wig ! he chatters, grins, and gies himself all the airs and graces of a fine lady. Sometimes I larn him his dooty by long lessons and short commons; sometimes I threatens — only threatens !— (but that in your honour's ear, for he's a-listening all the while !) to tip him monkey's allowance (shaking ferociously a very thin cane); but when I want to touch his feelings, I says, “Jackimo, you ’re a good-for-nuffin little monster, and I'll walk off your red waistcoat !"
This explanation was satisfactory to Uncle Timothys, ‘But the monkey and the bear, how relish they the razor ?' Kindly, sir, kindly! replied 'the bruin shaver. At first the old feller was summut rough and ugly; his beard turned the hedges of three oyster-knives afore I could trim him into a gentleman. But now he sees the advantage on it. Don't you my daisy ?'
The bear, after the fashion of the Irish echo, was made to ventrilo quise in a growl, gruffly, 'I does, my tulip!
The several rehearsals being over, and all things put in order for their approaching campaign, the exhibitors were about to depart, when it occurred to Uncle Timothy that he had not paid his footing for being admitted behind the scenes. He addressed the real wild Indian, and begged her to call for what best pleased her palate; which call resolved itself into a rasher on the coals, a Welsh rabbit, a rummer of nutbrown, and a thimblefull of brandy to keep off the spasms. She was then escorted to her tea-kettle, and put under cover for the night. The bear and the monkey having been similarly disposed of, their respective shavers made merry with the rest of the show-folk. Uncle Timothy took the poor little Italian boys under his own care, and feasted them plenteously. At this moment a rival tea-kettle drew up, with a caravan in the rear.
* Pray, madam,' said a tragedy queen, peeping through a bit of ragged green curtain that depended before the entrance of the teakettle, to a dwarf in the caravan, do you put up at Mother RedCap's ?
Not I, madam,' responded the Lilliputian lady, 'I stops at the Robin Hood* at merry Hoxton ;t none but the lower orders stops at Mother Red-Cap's!' And the caravan moved on as fast as the wall-eyed, half-starved anatomy of a Rosinante could drag it.
The rival tea-kettle poured out a part of its contents in the person of a long, lean man, with all his limbs rumbling; no way reducible to compass, unless you doubled him up like a pocket-rule. His wardrobe was in a fluttering condition, and illustrative of Jewfrippery and Rag-Fair tawdry. His coat was a patchwork quilt, his waistcoat and pantaloons, the sign of the chequers, an escutcheon quartering all the colours of the rainbow.
'In his hand
for the purpose of exciting an agreeable titillation in a very sharp nose, that blushed like a corn-poppy.
A glass of cold water, warm without sugar, Lady Teazle ? or a strip of white satin and bitters, my Belvidera ? A pint of half-andhalf in the pewter, my Calista ? or a tumbler of cold without, Mrs Longbow ??
D'ye think, Mr. Bigstick, I'm a rhinoscheros, a river-oss, or a crocodile ? Order me a pot of hot coffee and buttered coast; and mind, Mr. Bigstick, let it be buttered on both sides.'
This dialogue was carried on between the long lean man and an invisible sharp-voiced personage in the tea-kettle.
Coffee and toast for the tea-kettle,' shouted the waiter.
This old house, fronting the fields at Hoxton, was formerly a noted place of resort for the Finsbury archers. Sir William D'Avenant, in his · Long Vacation in London,' says of the proctors and attorneys,
• Each with solemn oath agree,
Sol sets for fear they'll shoot at him.' A stray Toxopholite may now and then be seen at the Robin Hood, stringing his bow, and dreaming of the merry days that are past. Underneath the ancient sign is the following inscription,
· Ye archers bold, and yeomen good,
Stop, and drink with Little John.' + Thomas Dale, Drawer at the Crown Tavern at Aldgate, kept the Turk’s Head Music-Booth in Smithfield-Rounds, over-against the Greyhound Inn, during the time of Bartholomew Fair (Temp. W. 3d.) where he exhibited, with other ludi. crous antics, Scaramouch dances and drolls,' the Merry Cuckolds of Hogsden! It is stated in the Henslowe papers, deposited in the archives of Dulwich College, that Ben Jonson killed Gabriel Spencer, a fellow actor, in a duel fought in Hoxton Fields.
“How many ?' demanded mine host.
' Four. Lady Teaser, Belvideary, Miss Cannister, and Mrs. Longbow.'
'Mort de ma vie! ejaculated the long lean man. For one! In the incomparable Tumbletuzzy all these characters are combined. And, garçon, bring me a basin of tea and a- -biscuit.'
The frugal refection was laid before the lean man. “Cat-lap base ! he muttered, swallowing the scalding hot bohea, that was strongly impregnated with Sir Hugh Middleton, and champing the dry hard biscuit.
'Another round of toast for Lady Teaser !'
Buttered on both sides, growled the lean man, sarcastically; and he began to number with his long skinny fingers, as if counting the cost.
Uncle Timothy was the last person in the world flout a threadbare coat, because it is threadbare, or take a man for a sharper because he happens to be sharp-witted or sharp-set. Your full-fed fool, he thought, was quite as likely to have nefarious designs on his purse, as the hungry humorist who at once lets you into the secret of his starvation. If he be deserving as well as poor, it was gratifying to Uncle Tim that he had made honest poverty forget its privations for a season; and should he prove a shirking idler on the pavé, still he had not been taken in at any vast expense. Reflections like these had been some time passing in his mind—and he left the room.
On his return, he found the lean man still counting with his fingers. Presently the waiter spread the table with a snow-white cloth; the clattering of knives and forks, plates and spoons, roused the lean man from his reverie; he gazed wistfully at the preparations, and looked thrice famished.
There is a story of a tyrant, who, to add to the natural torments of starvation, caused a roast chicken to be suspended every day before the prison bars of his victim, until he expired. Just such a tormentor, unwittingly, was Uncle Timothy. For the garçon again appeared, bearing a fragrant dish of broiled ham and poached eggs, the sight and aroma of which seared the eye-balls and tantalised the pinched nostrils of the lean man. At the same moment, ' Another round for Lady Teaser !' tolled a twopenny knell in his ears.
'My friend not arrived yet ?' said Uncle Timothy.
'Let him pay, then, for his want of punctuality. I wait for nobody. My motto is, First come, first served. Will you, sir,' politely addressing the lean man, 'do me the favour to become my guest ? Though I have ordered supper for two, I really cannot command appetite for two.
The lean man stared irresolutely at Uncle Timothy. Hunger and Pride were at fisticuffs; but Hunger hit Pride such a blow in the stomach, that Pride gave up the contest.
And how gracefully did the middle-aged gentleman play the host! inviting his guest (though little invitation was needed) with the kindest words, and helping him to the daintiest morsels. The office proved no sinecure; and it was not until this supper.out of the first lustre had fully indulged his eating propensities, and cleared the board, that he found leisure to look up from his plate, and contem, plate the execution he had done. But when a cauliflower-wigged tankard of brown stout crowned the repast, his rapture knew no bounds. He pressed it with ecstasy to his lips, and sang joyously
Porter! drink for noble souls !
Raise the foaming tankard high!
So said Johnson-so say I !
Ha !-I breathe !-a glorious pull !
Froth for Frenchmen! Stout for Bull!
Till they conquer or they die ?-
Now you know the reason why.
Give my respectful compliments to Lady Teazle, and tell her ladyship that I 'll kiss her superlative “pickers and stealers" in the twinkling of a bed-post.")
The garçon made another precipitate entry, with The tea-kettle can't wait, sir!'
A fico for the tea-kettle! It must!--it shall ! With three rounds of toast buttered on both sides, and coffee à discrétion, hath the immortal Tumbletuzzy been magnificently regaled-("Marriage is chargeable !")—and shall I not take mine ease in mine inn? Your banquet, sir, hath warmed the cockles of my heart, and made my hair curl!—“Beggar that I am, but I thank you !" When a lean man's stomach lacks dainty fare,
Without much ado, he soon falls to,
O’er a glass of good liquor
His heart beats the quicker,
And he drinks to his kind host, as I drink to you. There's my card-Bonassus Bigstick, Esq., Bartholomew Fair' — (presenting a bill of the performances). I'll put you on our free list, which to all the world, but yourself and the public press, shall be unavoidably suspended! Ha!-(scenting a rummer of hot punch that the garçon placed before him)- brandy for heroes! Welcome, old friend! for a' langsyne. Yet what is punch without a song ? A clerk without a Cocker; a door without a knocker; a ship without a sailor; a goose without a tailor; a priest without a pulpit ; a stage without a full pit !- As you, sir, have been instrumental to my entertainment, let me be vocal for yours! Egad, I'll turn the affair to business account,omnibus tulip punctum, as we say in the classics !-by giving you an undress rehearsal of one of my crack songs for to-morrow at Saint Bartlemy. All the world 's a stage, the men and women actor folks,
Very, very tragical, or very full of fun.
And Mr. Dicky Dunderhead of Dunstable is one.
Ranting, tearing, stamping, staring ; Whiskerandos, Domine ;
Punch's scions, see the lions! Bartlemy, come startle me!
Ladies and gentlemen, walk in, walk in !
Nigger parlous! killing Carlos on his wedding-day;
As Hamlet proud, he bellows loud, and scares the ghost away!
Avaunt ! you fright, and quit my sight! a stool there's not, my trump, any;
your company! Punch's scions, see the lions! Bartlemy, come startle me!
Ladies and gentlemen, walk in, walk in!
Round his head spins like a top as fast as it can go;
Dances on his head and hands, and jumps Jim Crow.
A horse! my kingdom for a horse ! if legs he can but go on two-
Punch's scions, see the lions! Bartlemy, come startle me!
Ladies and gentlemen, walk in, walk in! 0, Mr. Dunderhead ; is it to be wonder-ed,
Old chap, you let Miss Capulet make love to you till dawn? For when you played at Dunstable, and overrun the constable,
The ladies would have pledged their hearts to take you out of pawn. Among the stars of Smithfield bars you 'll stick so fiery off indeed, The deuce a bit of goose you 'll get, or “Nosey ! off!!* or cough, indeed; And if in fun for number one folks think to spend a penny fit, They 'll come and see you off a tree the bark grin at your benefit.
Punch's scions, see the lions! Bartlemy, come starile me! Ladies and gentlemen, walk in, walk in! The tea-kettle now boiled over with rage, and demanded imperi. ously the immediate presence of the lean man.
Who calls on Bigstick? As the Tumbletuzzy will brook no longer delay,
“ I hold it fit that we shake hands and part.”. “ To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,” you will find me at the Fair. I shall expect your promised visit.
“Adieu, adieu, adieu, remember me !" !
* About the year 1775, there was a performer on the violincello in the orchestra of Drury Lane Theatre, named Cervetti, to whom the gods had given the appropriate nickname of Nosey, from his enormous staysail, that helped to carry him before the wind. Nosey !" shouted from the galleries, was the signal, or word of command for the fiddlers to strike up. This man was originally an Italian merchant of good repute: but failing in business, he came over to England, and adopted music for a profession. He had a notable knack of loud yawning, with which he sometimes un. luckily filled up Garrick’s expressive pauses, to the infinite annoyance of little Davy, and the laughter of the audience. In the summer of 1777 he played at Vauxhall, at the age of ninety-eight.