“I be one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie That for every wherefore there should be a why,
That by fortune's strange weather a calm or a squall,
Our births, good or bad are chalk'd out for us all:
That the stays and the braces of Life will be found
To be some of 'em rotten, and some of 'em sound.
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak.”
 
IT was half past eleven o'clock before our friends approaching the breakfast parlour, had an opportunity of congratulating each other on the amusements of the previous evening, when the Hon. Tom Dashall ever upon the active look-out for the most pleasureable amusements to occupy the mind and attention of his cousin, observing it was a very tine morning, proposed a ride to Greenwich, and with this object in view all being prepared, it was not long before they were seated in the curricle.
“Greenwich,” said Tom, “is not a very long journey, nor do I know, speaking of the town itself, independent of its surrounding attractions, particularly to be admired, though it is a neat town, about five miles from London Bridge, in the county of Kent, with a market on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It is however, famous for an hospital for decayed Seamen, the brave defenders of their native soil, who have fought and bled for their king and country; thought to be the finest structure of the kind in the world, and for an observatory built by Charles II. on the summit of a hill, called Flamstead Hill, from the great astronomer of that name, who was here the first astronomer Royal: and we compute the longitude from the meridian of this place. It is also a place of great resort at holiday time, for being so near London. The Lads and Lasses move off in groups to Greenwich fair, and the amusements at those times are of so varying a kind as almost to defy description.
“The hills and dales are lined
With pretty girls all round.”
 
[156]And there are but few who have had an opportunity, but have occasionally enjoyed a roll down this hill. The roads leading to the sporting spot are to be seen clogged with coaches, carts, and waggons, decorated with laurel, and filled with company, singing their way down or up to participate in the frolics of Greenwich fair. It is however, much more celebrated for its once having been a Royal Palace, in which Edward VI. died, and Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were born. On a part of the site of it, now stands the house belonging to the Ranger of the Park at Greenwich, also a College called the Duke of Norfolk's College, for the maintenance of 20 decayed Housekeepers, and another called Queen Elizabeth's, as well as a Royal Naval asylum for the orphans of Sailors and Marines; and although we are going down when there is no fair to attract multitudes to the spot, I can still promise you more solid entertainment in a review of these truly splendid and useful national establishments, besides which, the town affords plenty of good accommodation for refreshment and comfort.”
By this time they had passed Westminster Bridge on their road. Bob thanked his cousin for the information he had imparted, but as the objects and subjects directly under his eye generally engrossed his immediate attention, he could not resist the impulse of the moment, as they turned the corner of the asylum wall, to remark that he had witnessed in many instances before, a practice which appeared in and about London, of chalking the walls, and perceiving in large letters “Dr. Eady 32 Dean Street Soho,” enquired what was meant by it.
“That,” replied his cousin, “is one of the most ingenious modes of advertising, hit upon in the Metropolis, and the Doctor at all events deserves credit for the industry and perseverance he has manifested in making his name known. It is not altogether new, for it has been successfully practiced in popular elections. Men are sent out at night to chalk the names of Candidates on walls and other places, to keep their interest alive; but in all probability no one has ever before carried the system to so great a length as this Doctor Eady, for it is scarcely possible to travel ten miles round the metropolis without meeting with his name, which naturally excites enquiry into the object and pretensions of the chalked up Hero. You will also find in many cases that the proprietor of the Bonassus has [157]lately adopted the same system. It is a species of puffing which can hardly fail of producing notoriety, and I have before observed, it matters but little to the parties themselves by what means this is produced save and except the avoidance of expence.”
“It is a curious scheme however,” replied Bob, “and I have two or three times before intended to enquire its meaning.”
“There are numerous instances,” returned Tom, “in which the eccentricities of an individual have blown him into notice, and puff'd fortune into his pocket. Packwood of Gracechurch street, had many whims and fancies, and acted upon the idea, that when a man's name is once up, he may go to bed, or take a nod elsewhere. By making razor strops and a certain paste for sharpening razors, he pasted his name on public credulity, and pocketed the proceeds. His advertisements were frequently laughable, and he caught his customers in their risible moments, wisely taking care never to laugh himself, 'till he had realized the possibles. I remember in the year 1807, he published a book, price “Two good Tower shillings,” containing his advertisements, entitled “Packwood's whim, Packwoodiana, or the Goldfinches nest, or the way to get money and be happy.” And to make the publication worth the money, and that there might be no grumbling, An half crown was according to the title-page, placed between the leaves.”
“That was no laughing matter, however,” said Bob, “he could not have got rich by such means.”
“You must not trust the title-pages of books,” replied Tom, “no more than the advertisements of Quacks, or the looks of persons. The half crown was not visible, or at least not tangible. It proved to be an anecdote related in the work. He however managed to circulate many copies, and it is generally understood, gained considerable money by his pursuits. He has left the benefit of his invention to his daughter, who now lives in Bride Lane, Fleet Street. But a more prominent character of recent times was the late celebrated Martin Van Butchell, whose name and fame are well known to Newspaper readers, and whose personal appearance at all times, excited in London the attention of the spectators. He was rather a tall man with a very long beard, and used to ride a short pony sometimes, spotted all over with a variety of colours.”
[158] “He must have cut a curious figure,” said Bob, “certainly, but what building have we here?”
“That,” replied his communicative cousin, “is The New Bethlem for the care and cure of lunatics. Bethlem was formerly situated on the South side of Moorfields, but as that building was hastening to decay, this elegant receptacle for its inmates has been prepared. It is not a little curious to remark, that it now occupies a part of that ground which was formerly devoted to mirth and revelry, The Dog and Duck Tea Gardens, the scene of many a frolic. The structure was designed by Mr. Lewis, and executed at an expence of ￡95,000. It is 580 feet in length, and capable of receiving in this front 200 patients. Another line of building extending to the South, is designed to admit an equal number, as well as 60 lunatics, the charge of which latter department, exclusively belongs to Government. The ground around it, occupying twelve acres, is devoted to the exercise of the patients.”
They were now dashing along the road towards the Elephant and Castle, when Bob was attracted by the appearance of the Philanthropic Chapel and School, which his cousin dismissed in a few words, by observing it was the school of reform, which he had alluded to, when last in the vicinity of Blackfriars, and which deserved more attention than he could just then give it. So touching up the tits in prime twig, they pushed on to the originally proposed place of destination.
Having arrived at Greenwich, and partaken of some refreshment, our heroes proceeded immediately to the Hospital; the magnificent appearance of which had an evident effect upon Tallyho, as he gazed upon its exterior, and some of its venerable inhabitants taking their peaceable walks before it, while others were seated on accommodating benches, viewing the vessels passing up and down the river.
“Why,” said Bob, “this Hospital is more like a Palace.”
“It is,” replied Tom, “a noble monument of National gratitude to its defenders, who deserve to be protected and assisted when disabled for service. Here the lame, the wounded, and the aged, are enabled to spin out the thread of a useful existence, in comfortable retirement. It was founded by William and Mary for invalid seamen, and many an old Commodore and gallant hardy Tar is [159] preserved in this establishment, after being doused from his pins, to puff old sorrow away and sing,
“Yet still I am enabled
To bring up in life's rear,
Although I'm quite disabled
And lie in Greenwich tier.
The King, God bless his Majesty,
Who sav'd me from the main,
I'll praise with Love and Loyalty,
But ne'er to sea again.”
 
“You perceive,” continued he, “that the costume of the place is a suit of blue, with proper distinctions of rank and station allotted to each.”
“But,” inquired Bob, “some of them appear to have their coats turned inside out; is that accordin............