with each other upon former official business; but as the lost property was not found upon him, it was the general opinion that nothing could be done, and the accused began to exercise his wit upon Murphy, which roused Pat's blood:
“For the least thing, you know, makes an Irishman roar.”
At length, upon charging him with having been caught blue-pigeon flying,{3} Pat gave him the lie in his teeth—swore he'd fight him for all the blunt{4} he had about him, “which to be sure,” said he, “is but a sweet pretty half-a-crown, and be d——d to you—good luck to it! Here goes,” throwing the half-crown upon the floor, which the prisoner attempted to pick up, but was prevented by Pat's stamping his foot upon it, while he was doffing his jacket,{5} exclaiming—
“Arrah, be after putting your dirty fingers in your pocket, and don't spoil the King's picture by touching it—devil burn me, but I'll mill your mug to muffin dust{6} before I'll give up that beautiful looking bit; so tip us your mauley,{7} and no more blarney.”
1 Down upon the Kiddies—To understand the arts and
manouvres of thieves and sharpers.
2 Boned—Taken or secured.
s Blue pigeon flying—The practice of stealing lead from
houses, churches, or other buildings. A species of
depredation very prevalent in London and its vicinity, and
which is but too much encouraged by the readiness with which
it can be disposed of to the plumbers in general.
4 Blunt—A flash term for money.
5 Doffing his Jacket—Taking off his jacket.
6 Mill your mug to muffin dust—The peculiarity of the Irish
character for overstrained metaphor, may perhaps, in some
degree, account for the Hibernian's idea of beating his head
to flour, though he was afterwards inclined to commence his
operations in the true style and character of the prize
ring, where
“Men shake hands before they box, Then give each other
plaguy knocks, With all the love and kindness of a brother.”
7 Tip us your mauley—Give me your hand. Honour is so sacred
a thing with the Irish, that the rapid transition from a
violent expression to the point of honour, is no uncommon
thing amongst them; and in this instance it is quite clear
that although he meant to mill the mug of his opponent to
muffin dust, he had a notion of the thing, and intended to
do it in an honourable way.
During this conversation, the spectators, who were numerous, were employed in endeavouring to pacify the indignant Hibernian, who by this time had buffid it, or, in other words, peeled in prime twig,{1} for a regular turn to.{2} All was noise and confusion, when a new group of persons entered the room—another capture had been made, and another charge given. It was however with some difficulty that honest Pat Murphy was prevailed upon to remain a little quiet, while one of the officers beckoned Dashall out of the room, and gave him to understand that the man in custody, just brought in, was a well-known pal{3} of the one first suspected, though they took not the least notice of each other upon meeting. In the mean time, another officer in the room had been searching the person of the last captured, from whose bosom he drew the identical handkerchief of Bob; and the Irishman recollected seeing him in the crowd opposite the Opera House.
This cleared up the mystery in some degree, though the two culprits affected a total ignorance of each other. The property of the person who had given the last charge was also discovered, and it was deemed absolutely necessary to take them before the Magistrate. But as some new incidents will arise on their introduction to the office, we shall reserve them for the next Chapter.
1 Buff'd it, or peeled in prime twig—Stripped to the skin
in good order. The expressions are well known, and
frequently in use, among the sporting characters and lovers
of the fancy.
2 Turn to, or set to—The commencement of a battle.
3 Pal—A partner or confederate.
CHAPTER VIII
Houses, churches, mixt together,
Streets unpleasant in all weather;
Prisons, palaces contiguous,
Gates, a bridge—the Thames irriguous;
Gaudy things, enough to tempt ye,
Showy outsides, insides empty;
Bubbles, trades, mechanic arts,
Coaches, wheelbarrows, and carts;
Warrants, bailiffs, bills unpaid,
Lords of laundresses afraid;
Rogues, that nightly rob and shoot men,
Hangmen, aldermen, and footmen;
Lawyers, poets, priests, physicians,
Noble, simple, all conditions;
Worth beneath a thread-bare cover,
Villainy bedaubed all over;
Women, black, red, fair, and grey,
Prudes, and such as never pray;
Handsome, ugly, noisy still,
Some that will not, some that will;
Many a beau without a shilling,
Many a widow not unwilling;
Many a bargain, if you strike it:—
This is London—How d'ye like it?
ON entering the Public Office, Bow-street, we must leave our readers to guess at the surprise and astonishment with which the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin beheld their lost friend, Charles Sparkle, who it appeared had been kindly accommodated with a lodging gratis in a neighbouring watch-house, not, as it may readily be supposed, exactly suitable to his taste or inclination. Nor was wonder less excited in the mind of Sparkle at this unexpected meeting, as unlooked for as it was fortunate to all parties. There was however no opportunity at the present moment for an explanation, as the worthy Magistrate immediately proceeded to an investigation
