Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

Here lies the body of Daniel Saut, Spitalfields weaver,--and that's all. In Chigwem Church-yard. This disease you ne'er heard tell on, I died of eating too much melon; Be careful then all you that feed--I Suffer'd, because I was too greedy. In St. John's, Leeds. _Hic jacet_, sure the fattest man That Yorkshire stingo made; He was a lover,--of his can, A clothier by his trade. His waist did measure three yards round, He weighed almost three hundred pound; His flesh did weigh full twenty stone,-- His flesh, I say--he had no bone,-- At least 'tis said that he had none. Eltham. My wife lies here beneath, Alas from me she's flown! She was so good, that Death Would have her for his own. At Maidstone. My life was short, as you may see, I died at only twenty-three. Now free from pain and grief I rest I had a cancer in my breast; The Doctors all their physic tried, And thus by slow degrees I died! Northampton. Here lies the corpse of Susan Lee, Who died of heartfelt pain, Because she lov'd a faithless he, Who lov'd not her again! Pray for me, old Thomas Dunn,-- But if you don't,--'tis all one! In Aberdeen, Scotland. Here lies auld William Alderbroad. Have mercy on his soul, Lord God, As he would have were he Lord God, And thou auld William Alderbroad! Sir William Walworth, Lord Mayor of London St. Michael's, Crooked Lane. Hereunder lyth a man of fame, William Walworth callyd by name; Fishmonger he was in life time here, And twice Lord Maior as in bookes appere, Who with courage stout and manly might Slew Wat Tyler, in King Richard's sight. For which act done and trew intent, The King made him a Knight incontinent, And gave him armes, as heere you see, To declare his fait and chivalrie. He left this life the yere of our God, Thirteene hundryd fourscore and three, odd. William Wray. In the same Church-yard. Here lyeth, wrapt in clay, The body of William Wray;-- I have no more to say. Interchanging civilities, the party now separated, the collector to resume his occupation, and the two friends their walk. “Twenty-five quarto volumes,” exclaimed the Squire, “and exclusively filled with epitaphs; this fellow has set himself a task with a vengeance!” “And which,” answered his friend, “he will never be able to accomplish; however, the ambition of renown as a voluminous collector is the less censurable, as being unattended by any of its too frequently pernicious concomitants, and giving to others an acceptable and not irrational employment; he is only blameable in the projected extent, not the nature of his pursuit; and happy would it be for mankind did the love of fame engender no greater evil than that, if any, which may accrue from the Herculean labours of this epitaph collector.” “Yet to us, the uninitiated of the country, it would never occur that there existed even in London a man who disseminated his fortune, and applied his mental and corporeal energies in gleaning epitaphs.” “Neither perhaps would it occur that there existed even in London a virtuoso who discovered that fleas were a species of lobster, and who proceeded to proof by the ordeal of boiling water, on the supposition that the process would change their hue from black to red, and thus satisfactorily establish the correctness of his judgment; unfortunately, however, the boiled fleas still retained their original colour, and the ingenious hypothesis was reluctantly relinquished.”{1} 1 It is told of another virtuoso, that he was waited upon one morning by a stranger, who announced that he had the opportunity of procuring an inestimable curiosity--a horned cock; but that its owner, an avaricious old woman, had her domicile in the highlands of Scotland, to which remote region it would be necessary to travel, amply provided with the pecuniary means of securing this wonderful bird; and that it would be expedient to set out immediately, lest the matchless phenomenon should become the prize of a more fortunate competitor. “A horned cock! the very acme of frolicsome nature,--a desideratum in the class of _lusus naturae_, which I would rather possess than the mines of Peru!--Away, my dear fellow; speed like lightning to the north,--purchase this precious bird at any price; and should the old woman hesitate at separation from her cornuted companion, why then purchase both, and bring them to town with all possible celerity!” In the interval between this important mission and the achievement of its object, the anxiety of the virtuoso was inexpressible;--a horned cock! it was the incessant subject of his cogitations by day, and of his dreams by night. At last the auspicious moment arrived; in the still noontide of night the preconcerted rap at the street door announced the happy result of the momentous expedition. The virtuoso sprang from his couch with extasy to admit the illustrious prodigy of nature. His astonishment, delight, and triumph were unspeakable:--two horns of the most beautiful curva- ture adorned the crested head of this noble northern. Anticipation thus blessed by the fulness of fruition, the bringer was super-abundantly rewarded. Next morning the virtuoso sent a message to each of his most highly favoured friends, desiring attendance at his house instantaneously, on an occasion of vast importance. “Gentlemen,” said he to his assembled visitants, “I may now boast possession of that whicli will astonish the universe--a horned cock! behold the rara avis, and envy my felicity!” So saying, he uncovered a wicker basket, when lo! the bird, shorn of its honours! indignant at confinement, and struggling for freedom, had dropped its waxen antlers! The unfortunate virtuoso stood aghast and speechless, and only at last found utterance to curse his own credulity! ~~310~~~ Pursuing their course along the City Road, the two friends were attracted by the appearance of a caravan, stationary on the road side, whereon was inscribed, in large characters, The Female Salamander. “Here is another instance,” observed Dashall, “of the varieties of Real Life in London.” “Walk in, gentlemen,” exclaimed the proprietor, “and see the surprising young woman over whom the element of fire has no control!” Tom and Bob accepted the invitation. Entering the caravan, they were received by an interesting young female, apparently not more than eighteen years of age, with a courteousness of manner far beyond what could have been expected from an itinerant exhibitor. So soon as a sufficient number of spectators had congregated within the vehicle, the female Salamander commenced her exhibition. Taking a red-hot poker from the fire, she grasped it firmly, and drew it from head to point through her hand, without sustaining the smallest injury! ~~311~~~ “Will you permit me to look at your hand?” asked Dashall. The girl extended her hand,--the palm was moist, and seemed to have been previously fortified against danger by some secret liquid or other application, now reeking from its recent contact with the flaming weapon. An uncivilized bumpkin accused her of deception, asserting that the poker was not heated to the extent represented. “Touch and try,” answered the girl. He did so, and the cauterizing instrument gave a feeling (although not very satisfactory) negative to his assertion. “The mystery,” continued Dashall, “of resisting the impression of tire, certainly originates in the liquid by which your hand has been protected.” “I shall answer your observation,” said the Salamander, “by another performance.” She then dipped her fingers into a pot of molten lead, and let fall upon her tongue several drops of the metallic fluid, to the no small amazement and terror of the company; and as if to remove the idea of precautionary application, she after a lapse of five minutes, repeated the same extraordinary exhibition, and finally immerged her naked feet in the boiling material. The inscrutable means by which the Salamander executed these feats with the most complete success and safety, were not to be divulged; and as neither of our respectable friends felt desirous of emulating the fair exhibitant, they declined the importunity of further inquiry. “This is, indeed,” said Dashall, as they resumed their walk, “the age of wonders:--here is a girl who can bear to gargle her mouth with melted lead, put her delicate feet into the same scalding material, and pass through her hands a flaming red-hot poker! I am inclined to believe, that were the present an age of superstition, she might be burnt for a witch, were she not happily incombustible. For my own part, I sincerely hope that this pyrophorous prodigy will never think of quitting her own country; and as I am a bachelor, I verily believe I should be tempted to make her an offer of my hand, could I flatter myself with any chance of raising aflame, or making a match with such uninflammable commodity. Only conceive the luxury, when a man comes home fatigued, and in a hurry for his tea, of having a wife who can instantly take out the heater for ~~312~~~ the urn with her fingers,--stir the fire with ditto--snuff candles with ditto--make a spit of her arm, or a toasting fork of her thumb! What a saving, too, at the washing season, since she need only hold her hand between the bars till it is red-hot, thrust it into a box iron, and iron you off a dozen children's frocks, while an ordinary laundress would be coddling the irons over the fire, spitting upon them, and holding them to her cheek to ascertain the heat before she began to work.” “And,” observed the Squire, taking up his friend's vein of humour, “if the young lady be as insensible to the flames of Cupid as she is to those of Vulcan, she might still be highly useful in a national point of view, and well worthy the attention of the various fire-offices.” “Exactly so,” replied his Cousin,--“how desirable for instance would it have been at the late alarming fire in Gracechurch-street, to have had a trustworthy person like her, who could very coolly perambulate the blazing warehouses, to rescue from the flames the most valuable commodities, or lolling astraddle upon a burning beam, hold the red-hot engine pipe in her hand, and calmly direct the hissing water to those points where it may be most effectually applied. In our various manufactories, what essential services she might perform. In glass-houses, for instance, it is notorious that great mischief sometimes arises from inability to ascertain when the sand and flint have arrived at the proper degree of fusion. How completely might this be remedied, by merely shutting up the female Salamander in the furnace; and I can really imagine nothing more interesting, than to contemplate her in that situation, dressed in an asbestos pelisse, watching the reproduction of a phoenix hung up in an iron cage by her side, fondling