London, thy streets abound with incident.— Dashing along, here roll the vehicles,
Splendid, and drawn by highly pamper'd steeds,
Of rank and wealth; and intermix'd with these,
The hackney chariot, urg'd to sober pace
Its jaded horses; while the long-drawn train
Of waggons, carts, and drays, pond'rous and slow,
Complete the dissonance, stunning the ear
Like pealing thunder, harsh and continuous,
While on either side the busy multitude
Pass on, various and infinite.—
[122] THE following morning presented the exhilarating aspect of an unclouded sky, and the two friends were anticipating, at the breakfast-table, the enjoyment of a fine day,—when
A double rat-tat, quickly doubled again,            ?
Announced an intruder of Consequence vain,
Decorum inclin'd to defy all;—
Again went the knocker, yet louder and faster,
John ran to the door,  and one ask'd for his master,
Resolv'd against taking denial.—
“My good fellow,” said the stranger, “will you be after representing my obeisance and all that, to the Honorable Mr. Dashall, and I beg to know whether he is at home?”
“Your name, sir?”
“Augh, what does it signify?—Tell him an old friend with a new face,—arrah, not so,—tell him, that a new friend with no face at all at all, would be glad to wait upon him.—Sir Felix O'Grady, the Munster baronet, d'ye mind me?”
This was an unexpected visit, and the more kindly received by Dashall and Tallyho, who promised themselves considerable amusement in the acquisition of the baronet's society, which was readily conceded for the day, to their request.
[123] “Have you breakfasted?” asked Dashall. “Whether or not,” answered Sir Felix, “I'll take a cup of taa with you, any how.”
When the repast was finished, the triumvirate set out on their pedestrian excursion; interrupted however, in their progress, by a temporary shower, they took refuge in a Coffee-house, where Sir Felix taking up a Newspaper, read from amongst the numerous advertisements, the following selected article of information,—“Convenient accommodations for ladies who are desirous of privately lying in, and their infants carefully put out to nurse.” “Well now, after all,” observed the baronet, “this same London is a very convanient place, where a lady may gratify her pleasurable propensities, and at same time preserve an unblemished reputation. It is only going into the country, sure, for the benefit of her health; that is to say, she retires to one of the villages in the neighbourhood of London, pays her way without name given or questions asked, and in a few months, returns to Town improved in health, but more slender in person, all her acquaintance exclaiming, “La! my dear, how vastly thin you have grown!”—
“There are in London and its neighbourhood,” said Dashall, “numerous such convenient asylums; but I cannot acquiesce in their utility.—I am rather of opinion that they have a demoralizing tendency, as accelerating by concealment, the progress of licentiousness.—Human failings will still predominate, and the indulgence of illicit intercourse is less frequently prevented by an innate principle of virtue than the dread of shame. When facility of concealment is therefore given to the result, these connexions will still become more prevalent.”
“By the Powers,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “but I think Morality ought to feel particularly benefited by these convanient asylums; they preserve reputation, and in some instances have prevented suicide and murder. I know of two cases wherein both crimes were perpetrated through a sense of shame and dread of discovery, which probably would not have happened could the unfortunates have resorted to “convanient accommodations.”—Well, here's good luck to the fair sex, the dear cratures! and may they, every one of them, die on a Christmas day, any how!”{1}
[124] This eccentric wish elicited a look of surprise from the Squire, which Sir Felix observing,—
“My rason is,” said he, “that the gates of heaven being open all that day long, a body may slip in unknownst, as it is to be hoped that you, Mr. Dashall, and I may do, some day shortly without any interruption at all, at all.”
This ludicrous finis excited the laughter of the company—
“But lo! the clouds break off, and sideways run,
Out from his shelter lively looks the sun:”
 
and the united observers of Real Life hailing the favorable presage, resumed their perambulation.—
Advancing along Piccadilly towards Hyde Park, they reached the splendid mansion of the hero of Waterloo; the gates were open, and a travelling carriage with four horses was in waiting for his Grace, who was then about setting off to inspect the fortifications of the Netherlands.{2} Neither Sir Felix nor Tallyho having ever seen the Duke, the triumvirate paused at the entrance of the Court-yard, until the carriage came forth, when they saluted the gallant warrior with the tribute of respect due to distinguished services and exalted genius, which his Grace very courteously returned.
1  On the subject of “convenient accommodation for ladies
who wish privately to ly in,” if we might hazard an opinion,
it would be in coincidence with that of our friend Dashall.
These establishments' are certainly an encouragement to
licentiousness, and it is well known, that in many of these
receptacles, “where the strictest honor and secrecy may be
relied on,” the allurement of abortion is held out to the
unhappy female, if she declines the anticipation of maternal
solicitude.
 
2 Thirty-Two Great Personages! Anecdote of the Duke of
Wellington,—His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, when last in
the Netherlands, and travelling without attendants, in a
part of the country where his multitudinous titles were not
well understood, was overtaken on the road by a veteran
officer, whose route lay in the same direction with that of
his Grace. The Duke having occasion to stop; and as the
officer would reach a certain town several hours before him,
he requested that the veteran would take the trouble of
ordering dinner for him, at the principal Inn. The old
officer made his congee, and pro-ceeded on his mission. “I
am desired to order dinner here,” said he, to the landlord;
“but stay, I had better state who for.”   Then calling for
pen and ink, he presented the astonished and delighted host
with the following list of his forthcoming illustrious
guests.
 
The Prince of Waterloo!
The Duke of Wellington.—The Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo,
and The Duke of Vittoria.
The Marquis of Douro, and a Marshal General of France.
Master General of the Ordnance.
 
Colonel of the Royal Regt. of Horse Guards, Blue.
Colonel of the Rifle Brigade.
 
The Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire.—And
 
The Governor of Plymouth.
 
Field Marshal of Austria,
——————————Russia,
——————————Prussia,
——————————France,
——————————England, and
——————————The Netherlands.
 
A Grandee of the Highest Class.
A Captain General of Spain.
 
Knights of the Orders of
The Garter, in England.—St. Andrew, in Russia.—The Black
Eagle, in Russia.—Charles III. in Spain.—St. Ferdinand and
Merit, in Spain.—The Golden Fleece, in Spain.—Maximilian
Joseph, in Bavaria.—St.   Maria Theresa, in Austria.—The
Sword,  in Spain.—St.  Esprit, in France.—St.  George,  in
Russia.—The Tower and Sword, in Portugal.
And, (to bring up the rear,)
A Doctor of Civil Laws!
 
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the host, in extacy, “what a noble
company!”   He then began to tell them over;—“One Prince,”
 he continued,—“Three Dukes—One Marquis—A Marshal General
of France—An English Governor—An English Lord Lieutenant—
The Master General of the Ordnance, and Two English
Colonels—Six Field Marshals—One Grandee of the Highest
Class—A Captain General of Spain—Twelve Knights, and a
Doctor of Civil Laws!.'—Mon Dieu!   Thirty-two Great
Personages!!”
 
All the provisions of the town, all the delicacies of the
season and all the celebrated wines, were immediately put in
requisition for the illustrious company in expectancy.
 
At last the Duke of Wellington arrived, and was ushered into
a spacious dining-room, where a cloth was laid with thirty-
two covers. The person of the Duke was unknown to the
Innkeeper, who, full of important preparations for the
Thirty-two Great Personages, thought not of any thing
else.—“I ordered dinner here,” said his Grace.—“Mon
Dieu!” responded the Innkeeper, “are you one of the Thirty-
two Great Personages?” presenting the list at same time. His
Grace glanced his eye over it,—“they are all here!” said
he, “so send up the dinner immediately.” The Inn-keeper
stood aghast with amazement; at last finding utterance, he
ventured to express a hope that his Grace would be pleased
to take into consideration, that he (the Innkeeper,) had, at
great trouble and expence, provided a most sumptuous
entertainment for Thirty-two Great Personages.   “D——n
the Thirty-two Great Personages,” exclaimed the Duke, “Send
up the dinner, and your bill.—Thus I must pay the penalty,”
 said he, “for not having invited the old veteran to be of
the party!!”
 
[125] The Squire observed, that the brilliant victories of his Grace, although acknowledged and rewarded by all the Potentates of Europe, had not procured him much popularity at home. The remark was confessed by Dashall to be correct, but whence the public indifference originated, he could not presume to explain.
Crossing Hyde Park, which a celebrated physician denominated the lungs of the Metropolis, our pedestrians made their egress into Oxford-road. This fine street, with longitudinal reference the first in London, excited the admiration of the baronet; the long line of perspective indeterminable to the view, stretching from Hyde Park corner to St. Giles's, the general uniformity of the buildings, the neatness, and in many instances the splendor of the tradesmen's shops, together with the comfortable manner of their perambulation, unjostled and unimpeded by the hurry, throng and bustle of passengers, with which [126] many other parts of the Town are annoyed, gave an additional zest of enjoyment to the trio in their excursion, while the Squire observed, that he felt in this part of the Town, always as if he had been suddenly removed to some other region of the world, far remote from the city of London, its dissonant uproar, and crowded inconveniences.
Turning into Blenheim street, Dashall apprized his companions, that if they felt inclined to take a peep into the Theatre of Anatomy, he could procure their admission.
The Squire seemed to recoil from so disgusting an exhibition; while on the other hand the baronet expressed a great desire to enter the theatre. “I have been used to murder and mutilation!” said he.
“The devil you have!” ejaculated the Squire, “where, how?”
“Where else should it be but in Ireland?” replied the baronet:—“and as to the how, was it not, sure, after the manner of my profession, while I was a member of a Corps of Yeoman Cavalry, during the rebellion, when we whipped, hanged, beheaded, and mutilated men, every day, by dozens! So you may guess, my good [127]friend, that cutting up a human carcase is nothing new to me. Only now, I should like to see if there is any difference in the mangling of human bodies by the anatomical artists of London from the ci-devant military professors, “The Loyal Troop of Doneraile.”
The hesitation manifested by the Squire yielded, ultimately, to the importunity of the baronet, and they entered the human shambles, where the cutters up were at work upon a subject, securing to themselves the advantage of personal experience, in the process of dissection; the abdomen had been already cleared out, and the corpse was portioned out to the different students of anatomy for the purpose of illustration; the arms to one class, the legs to another, the head to a third, &c. so that in less than a quarter of an hour, decapitation and dismemberment were completely effected; and the trunk was deserted, as an uninteresting object, from which there could not be derived any information of importance, further than that which the students had already obtained!!!
Sir Felix whispered his friends, that these adepts in human mutilation far exceeded in apathy of feeling and adroitness of execution, even the ci-devant Loyal Troop of Doneraile!—But when one of the young artists brought forward in his hands smeared with gore, a human heart for the operation of the dissecting knife, Tallyho declaring that he could bear it no longer, rushed out of the theatre, and was followed by his two companions, all disgusted with this spoliation of the dead, however conducive it might prove to the interests of the living.{1}
1 The human subjects for these Theatres of Anatomy and
private dissection, are chiefly supplied by
“Resurrectionists;” a class of depraved wretches whose only
employment is that of body-snatching, or robbing the graves
of their dead; from which they derive a ready and lucrative
emolument. The anatomists are ready at all hours to receive,
without questions asked, and with prompt remuneration, the
produce of these unsanctified depredations.—Dreadful must
be the feelings of the fond relatives of a departed friend,
to learn that the sanctuary of the grave has been violated,
and the body of perhaps a beloved wife, sister, or other
revered female, exposed to the gaze, and subjected to the
scalping-knife, of these butchers.
 
Iron Coffins have been resorted to as a safe-guard, which
once closed cannot be opened. For this improvement the
artist obtained a patent; but he is not likely to derive
much advantage from his invention, as the parish officers
within the bills of mortality have generally refused the
rites of sepulture to bodies cased in iron; alleging, that
the almost imperishable material would shortly compel an
enlargement of burying ground, at a vast expence, which it
is the duty of the parish officers to prevent, by resisting
the interment of bodies in iron coffins; and this resolution
has lately had the sanction of legal authority.
[128]
Proceeding along Oxford Street, Sir Felix enquired for the Holy Land, informing his friends, at same time, that his servant, whom he had entrusted the preceding day with a cheque on his banker, had not been at home all night, and the probability was, that he had got amongst his Munster friends in Palestine. Sir Felix was therefore desirous of ascertaining, if possible, the sanctuary of the fugitive; and with that view requested his friends to accompany him in a perambulation of discovery, through (to him) these hitherto unexplored regions.—This application was readily assented to, and the triumvirate passed onwards to the place of destination.
They had now reached the Church of St. Giles in the Fields, situated in Broad Street, St. Giles's; and their attention was immediately directed to that fine piece of sculpture over the iron gateway, leading into the Church-yard, representing the Resurrection and Last Judgment. The figures are in basso relievo, and although diminutive, are admirably grouped, and the expression of each gives to the whole a finished and impressive effect.
Two minutes more, and the three friends were on the boundaries of the Holy Land, namely, George Street, or, as formerly cognomened, Dyott Street, Bloomsbury.
At the end of this street, next to St. Giles's, were several of the Lower Irish, of both gender, who, clustering together, seemed to hold a close confabulation, casting occasionally, an inquisitive eye on Sir Felix O'Grady.
“By the soul of the priest!” at last exclaimed one of the Munster emigrees, “but it is him, and I would take my davy on it;—but sure enough, I will ax the jontleman himself now, whether he knows who he is, or if he is any body at all, at all!”
This real representative of the tag-rag and bob-tail of the Emerald Isle, was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his class and country. A nameless something that had once been a hat, covered a shock head of hair; the redundancy of which protuberated sideways and perpendicularly, [129]from the ci-devant castor, in many a knotty combination, impervious to wind and weather. The fragments of a loose great coat decorated his tall athletic form, which scarcely reaching his knees, exposed fully to observation his nether habiliment,—
“His galligaskins, that had long withstood
The winter's fury and encroaching frost
By Time subdued,—what will not Time subdue,
Now horrid rents disclosed, portending agues.”
 
His brawny legs were partially cased in worsted hose, the dilapidations of wear and tear ingeniously repaired with cloth, pieced and patched, and comprising all the prismatic colours of the rainbow; his toes, disdaining the trammels of duress, peeped through his brogues, as if anxious for freedom; and to complete the singularity of this strange figure, his vacant face was incrusted with filth, his bristly beard unshorn,—
And stuck in his mouth of capacious dimensions,
That never to similar shape had pretensions,
A pipe he sustain'd, short and jetty of hue,
Thro' which the dense clouds of tobacco he drew.
This apparition stalking onwards to our admiring triumvirate,—“May be,” said he, “your honor can be after telling me,—will your honor be Sir Felix O'Grady of Munster, that is, long life to it?”—“The same, by the powers of my father who begot me!” exclaimed the baronet: “sure enough I am Sir Felix O'Grady that is, not that will be!” “Erin ma vorneen!” rejoined the enquirer,—“the pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your honor live all the days of your life, and many years longer, if that's all!—Arrah, but I'm plased to my heart's content to meet wid your honor in a strange land!”
The congregated expectants now approached, and respectfully united their congratulations with those of their respectable deputy.—“The pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your reverence live for ever and a day afterwards!” It was in vain that Sir Felix offered them money. “No, the devil a drap would they taste, unless it was wid his honor's own self, by the holy poker!”
There was no remedy; so Sir Felix, with his friends Dash all and Tallyho, who were much amused by this [130]unsophisticated manifestation of Irish recognition, accompanied the motley groupe to the blue-ruin shop.{1}
 Page130 Blue Ruin Shop 
Entering then, the neighbouring den, of a licensed retailer of destruction, the first obje............