Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
both Irishmen, and exhibited a good deal of irritation as
well as confusion, in their stories. With some difficulty
the following facts were collected from their respective
statements;--On Tuesday week, about nine o'clock in the
evening, a man dressed in the costume of a sailor, and
wearing a large rough coat, similar to that commonly worn by
sea-faring men, in bad weather, entered the shop of O'Regan,
who is a dealer in salt fish, and other haberdashery,” as he
called it, in St. Giles's; and beckoning to the back part of
the room, and at the same time looking very significantly,
said, “May be you would not like a drop of the “real thing,”
to keep a merry Christmas with?” “What do you mane?” says
O'Regan. “Whiskey, to be sure,” says the man. “Faith, and
it's I that would, “replied O'Regan, “provided it was good
and chape.” “Och, by the piper of Kilrush,” says the man,
“there has not been a noter, claner, more completer drop of
_Putshean_ (whiskey illicitly distilled,) smuggled across
the _Herring-brook_ (the Irish Channel,) for many a long
day, and as for chapeness, you shall have it for an ould
song.” “You don't mane to say it's after being smuggled!”
says O'Regan. “Be my soul, but I do,” rejoined the man,
“it's I and Jack Corcoran, a friend of mine, brought it safe
and sound into the Thames last Sunday, in the shape of a
cargo of butter-firkins, from Cork.” “Could a body taste
it?” pursued O'Regan. With a couple of “why nots,” says the
man, “I've a blather full of it under my oxther (his arm-
pit,) if you'll lind us hould of a glass.” O'Regan said he
hadn't a glass handy, but he brought a cup, and the bladder
being produced, a fair taste was poured forth, which
O'Regan, having tippled it off, after collecting his breath,
swore was “the darling of a drop, it was the next kin to
aquafortis.”--“Aqua fifties you mane” says the man,
“aquafortis is a fool to it.” The next question was, as to
the price? “Och, by the powers,” says the honest smuggler,
“as you're a countryman and friend, you shall have it for
ten shillings a gallon, and less than that I would'nt give
it to my mother.” O'Regan thought this too much, and
proposed eight shillings a gallon; but, after much
chartering, he agreed to give nine shillings. The quantity
was next discussed. The man could not sell less than an
anker, four gallons. This was too much for O'Regan; but he
finally determined to get a friend to go partners, and
Higgins, who lodged in his house, was called down and also
indulged with a taste, which he likewise pronounced
“beautiful.” It was then arranged, with strong injunctions
of secrecy, that the tub should be brought the next night,
in a half-bushel sack, as if it were coals, and the hour of
nine was appointed. The smuggler then departed, but was true
to his appointment. He came at the hour fixed on the
Wednesday night, and in the disguise proposed. The commodity
was then carried into a little back parlor, with great
mystery, and deposited in a cupboard, and the doors being
all shut, he demanded his cash. “To be sure,” says Higgins;
“but, first and foremost (for he was more cautious than his
friend,) let us see if it is as good as the sample was?”
“Och, the devil burn me,” says the smuggler, “if I'd desave
you.” “Sure I know you would'nt,” replied Higgins, “only
just I'd like to wet my whistle with another drop, as you
may say.” “Touch my honor, touch my life,” says the
smuggler; and seizing the tub with some indignation, he
called for the poker, and then striking the barrel on each
side the bung-hole, out started the bung. He next called for
a table-spoon, and a cup, and ladling out about a noggin,
alias a quartern, handed it to O'Regan, who, having taken a
suck, by the twist of his eye and the smack of his lips,
evinced his satisfaction. Higgins finished it; and
exclaiming, “it's the dandy,” passed his hand in his
pocket, without further hesitation, and produced his
eighteen shillings. O'Regan did the same, and the cask being
safely locked in the cupboard, the smuggler was let out with
as much caution as he had been admitted. O'Regan and Higgins
then held a council upon the division of the spoil; and the
latter went up stairs to fetch down a two gallon jar, while
the former ran to the public-house to borrow a measure. They
soon met again in the parlor, and the tub was brought out.
They endeavoured at first to get the bung out in the same
manner which they had observed the smuggler pursue, but not
being equally acquainted with the subject, they could not
succeed. This difficulty, however, was soon obviated.
O'Regan obtained a large gimblet from a next door neighbour,
and a hole being bored in one of the ends, the liquor began
to flow very freely into the measure which was held to
receive it. Higgins remarked that it looked very muddy, and
on the pint being full, lifted it up to have another sup;
but he had no sooner taken a gulp, than, to the dismay of
O'Regan, he exclaimed, “Oh, Holy Paul, it's bilge!”
mentioning a very unsavoury liquid. “Brother,” says O'Regan,
and snatching the measure from his partner, took a mouthful
himself, which he as quickly spirted about the floor; and
then, in an agitated tone, cried out, “Sure enough Higgins,
it is bilge, and precious bail it is, as ever I drank.” They
now eyed each other for some time with mutual surprise, and
then sympathetically agreed that they must have been “done.”
It was still, however, a matter of surprise to them, how
their friend, the smuggler, could have taken good whiskey
(which that they had tasted from the bung-hole certainly
was,) from such nastiness. In order to solve their doubts,
they procured a pail; and, having emptied the cask, they
proceeded to break it to pieces, when, to their
astonishment, the mystery was unravelled, and their folly,
in being made the dupes of a pretended smuggler, made fully
manifest; for immediately under the bung-hole they found a
small tin box, capable of containing about half a pint,
which, being tightly tacked to one of the staves, kept the
pure liquor, a small quantity of which still remained, from
that which was of a very opposite character. It was no
laughing matter, and they were not, therefore, very merry on
the occasion; and still less so, when Higgins demanded of
O'Regan the repayment of his eighteen shillings; this
O'Regan refused, and a quarrel ensued, which after having
terminated in a regular “set to,” attended with painful
consequences to both; was followed by Higgins applying to
this Court for the summons which led to their appearance
before the Commissioners. The whole of the circum-stances,
with infinite trouble, having been thus unravelled; the
Commissioner declared his inability to afford Mr. Higgins
any re-dress. There was clearly no debt incurred; there was
a mutual compact, entered into for an illegal purpose, for
had the liquid which they had purchased been smuggled
spirits, they were liable to pay a large penalty for having
bought it. But putting aside all these considerations, it
was clear that Higgins had, with a proper degree of caution,
endeavoured to satisfy himself of the quality of the article
before he paid his money; and thereby showed that he was not
acting under a confidence in any guarantee on the part of
O'Regan; and consequently could have no claim on him. In
this view of the case, he should dismiss the summons without
costs. The parties then retired, amidst the laughter of the
by-standers; and Higgins, who was evidently much mortified,
swore he would take the worth of his eighteen shillings
“out of O'Regan's bones!”
This command was obeyed with alacrity, and as promptly acceded to by
the discomfited intruder, who, however, retrieved, without doubt, in
the credulity of others, the disappointment he had sustained by the
pertinacity of the Squire.
~120~~ The morning was unfavourable to pedestrian excursion. The library
was well stored with literature in choice variety. To this antidote of
ennui the Squire resorted, while Dashall wrote cards of invitation to a
few select friends, whom he knew would, _sans cerémonie_ honor his table
to take bachelor's fare with him in the evening.
“I pity the man in a rainy day,” says a writer, “who cannot
find amusement in reading.” This was not the case with the two
associates;--the intellectual treat afforded by the library was fully
enjoyed; and the moments glided on, imperceptibly, until verging on the
hour of dinner.
The friends to whom Dashall had sent round, one and all accepted his
invitation, and the remainder of the day was devoted to that
refined hilarity, of which his hospitable board was always the chief
characteristic.
CHAPTER VIII
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,