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“There is no flavour comparable, I will contend, to that of the crisp, tawny, wellwatched, not over-roasted crackling, as it is well called—the very teeth are invited to their share of the pleasure at this banquet in overcoming the coy, brittle resistance— with the adhesive oleaginous—O call it not fat-but an indefinable sweetness growing up to it—the tender blossoming of fat—fat cropped in the bud—taken in the shoot—in the first innocence—the cream and quintessence of the child-pig's {. P. food the lean, no lean, but a

ind of animal manna—or, rather fat and

lean (if it must be so) so blended and running into each other, that both together make but one ambrosial result, or common substance.

“Behold him while he is doing—it seemeth rather a refreshing warmth, than a scorching heat, that he is so passive to. How oi; he twirleth round the string ! —Now he is just done. To see the extreme sensibility of that tender age, he hath wept out his pretty eyes—radiant jellies—shooting stars.

“See him in the dish, his second cradle,

ow meek he lieth –wouldst thou have

had this innocent grow up to the grossness and indocility which too often accompany maturer swinehood Ten to one he would have proved a glutton, a sloven, an obstinate, Joi. animal—wallowing in all manner of filthy conversation- from these sins he is happily snatched away—

Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade, Death came with timely care—

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him in reeking sausages—he hath a fair

sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious epicure—and for such a tomb might be content to die.” ! ELIA further allegeth of “pig,” that “ the strong man may batten on him, and the weakling refuseth not his mild juices. He is—good throughout. No part of him is better or worse than another. He helpeth, as far as his little means extend, all around. He is the least envious of banquets. He is all neighbours' fare.” “I am one of those,” continueth ELIA, “who freely and ungrudgingly impart a share of the good things of this life which fall to their lot (few as mine are in this kind) to a friend. I protest, I take, as great an interest in my friend's pleasures, his relishes, and proper satisfactions, as in mine own. “Presents,' I often say, * endear absents.’ Hares, pheasants, partridges, snipes, barn-door chickens (those “tame villatic fowl'), capons, plovers, brawn, barrels of oysters, I dispense as freely as I receive them. I love to taste them, as it were, upon the tongue of my friend. But a stop must be put somewhere. One would not, like Lear, ‘give every thing.' I make my stand upon pig. * * * “I remember an hypothesis, argued upon by the young students, when I was at St. Omer's, and maintained with much learning and pleasantry on both sides, ‘Whether, supposing that the flavour of a pig who obtained his death by whipping (per flagellationem extremam) superadded a pleasure upon the palate of a man more intense than any possible suffering we can conceive in the animal, is man justified in using that method of putting the animal to death?' I forget the déciSlon. “His sauce should be considered. Decidedly, a few bread crums, done up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild sage. But banish, dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole onion tribe. Barbecue your whole hogs to your palate, steep them in shalots, stuff them out with

plantations of the rank and guilty garlic;

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@mother #art in the game fair, ******** * There is, however, another portrait of Fawkes, the conjuror: it is a sheet, engraved by Sutton Nichols, representing

him in the midst of his performances. Hogarth's frontispiece to a scarce tract on

“Taste," wherein he bespatters Burling


ton-gate, further tends to perpetuate Fawkes's fame, by an inscription announcing his celebrated feats. It is recorded, too, in the first volume of the “Gentleman's Magazine,” that on the 15th of February, 1731, the Algerine ambassadors went to see Mr. Fawkes, who, at their request, showed them a prospect of Algiers, “and raised up an apple-tree, which bore ripe apples in less than a minute's time, which several of the company tasted of.” This was one of his last performances, for, in the same volume, his name is in the list of “Deaths,” on the 25th of May, that year, thus: “Mr. Fawkes, noted for his dexterity of hand, said to die worth 10,000l.” The news

apers of the period relate, that “he had honestly acquired” it, by his “dexterity,” and add, that it was “no more than he really deserved for his great ingenuity, by which he had surpassed all that ever pretended to that art.” It will be observed from the show-cloth of the tumblers, that Fawkes was also “a famous posture-master:”

The tumbler whirles the flip-flap round, With sommersets he shakes the ground; The cord beneath the dancer springs; Aloft in air the vaulter swings, Distorted now, now prone depends, Now through his twisted arms descends; The crowd in wonder and delight, With clapping hands applaud the sight. Gay. On the platform of Lee and Harper's show, with “Judith and Holophernes,” in Mr. Setchel's print, which is handsomely coloured in the manner of the fan, the clown, behind the trumpeter, is dressed in black. The lady who represents Judith, as she is painted on the showcloth, is herself on the platform, with feathers on her head ; the middle feather is blue, the others red. She wears a laced stomacher, white hanging sleeves with rosettes, and a crimson petticoat with white rosettes in triangles, and suitably flounced. Holophernes, in a rich robe lined with crimson and edged with gold lace, wears light brown buskins, the colour of untanned leather; Harlequin, instead of the little flat three-corner flexible cap, wherein he appears at our present theatres, has a round beaver of the same light colour. Twofemales enteringat the door below are, apparently, a lady and her maid; the first is in green, and wears a cap with lappets falling behind, and white laced ruffles;

the other, with a fan in her hand, is in a tawny gown, o with red, and cuffs of the same; the lady and gentleman in mourning are evidently about to follow them. From hence we see the costume of the quality, and that at that time Bartholomew Fair was honoured with such visitors. The boy picking the gentleman's pocket

is removed from another so of Mr.

Setchel's print, which could not be included in the present engraving, to show that the artist had not forgotten to represent that the picking of pockets succeeded to the cutting of purses. The person in black, whose gaze the baker, or man with the apron, is directing with his finger, looks wonderfully like old Tom Hearne. Indeed, this fan-print is exceedingly curious, and indispensable to every “illustrator of Pennant,” and collector of manners. In that print to the right of Lee and Harper's is another show,with “Ropedancing is here,” on a show-cloth, representing a female with a pole on the tight-rope; stout middle-aged man, in a green coat, and leather breeches, walks the platform and blows a trumpet; the door below is kept by a woman, and the figures on the printed posting-bills against the boards exhibit a man on the tight-rope, and two

slack-ropes; a figure is seated and swing

ing on one rope, and on the other a man swings by the hams, with his head downward : the bills state this to be “At the great booth over against the hospital-gate in Smithfield.” Near to where the hospital-gate may be supposed to stand is a cook, or landlord, at the door of a house, with “Right Redstreak Cyder, at per quart,” on the jamb; on the other jamb, a skittle is painted standing on a ball, and an inscription “Sketle ground;” above. his head, on a red portcullis-work, is the sign of a punch-bowl and ladle, inscribed “Fine punch;” at the window-way of the house hang two Bartholomew “pigs with curly tails,” and a side of large pork. There is an “up and down,” or swing, of massive wood-work, with two children in three of the boxes, and one empty box waiting for another pair. Then there is a spacious sausage-stall; a toy-stall, kept by a female, with bows, halberts, rattles, long whistles, dolls, and other knickknackeries: a little boy in a cocked hat is in possession of a large halbert, and his older sister is looking wistfully at a Chinese doll on the counter; a showman ex

hibits the “Siege of Gibraltar” to two

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girls looking through the glasses. These are part of the amusements which are alluded to, in the inscription on the print now describing, as “not unlike those of our day, except in the articles of Hollands and gin, with which the lower orders were then accustomed to indulge, unfettered by licence or excise.” A man with tubs of “Right Hollands Geneva, and Anniseed,” having a cock in each, is serving a bearded beggar with a wooden-leg to a glass, much nearer to the capacity of half a pint, than one of “three outs” of the present day; while a woman, with a pipe in one hand, holds up a full spiritmeasure, of at least half a pint, to her own share; there is toping from a barrel of “Geneva” at another stall; and the postures of a couple of oyster-women denote that the uncivil provocative has raised the retort uncourteous. The visit of sir Robert Walpole to this scene might have suggested to him, that his licence and excise scheme, afterwards so unpopular, though ultimately carried, would aid a reformation of manners.

Lady Holland's Mob.

On the night before the day whereon the lord mayor proclaims the Fair, a riotous assemblage of persons heretofore disturbed Smithfield and its environs, under the denomination of “Lady Holland's mob.” This multitude, composed of the most degraded characters of the metropolis, was accustomed to knock at the doors and ring the bells, with loud shouting and vociferation; and they often committed gross outrages on persons and property. The year 1822, was the last year wherein they appeared in any alarming force, and then the inmates of the houses they assailed, or before which they paraded, were aroused and kept in terror by their violence. In Skinner-street, especially, they rioted undisturbed until between three and four in the morning: at one period that morning their number was not less than five thousand, but it varied as parties went off, or came in, to and from the assault of other places. Their force was so overwhelming, that the patrol and watchmen feared to interfere, and the riot continued till they had exhausted their fury.

It has been supposed that this mob first arose, and has been continued, in celebration of a verdict obtained by a Mr. Holland, which freed the Fair from toll; but this is erroneous, “Lady Holland's

mob” may be traced so far back as the times of the commonwealth, when the ruling powers made considerable efforts to suppress the Fair altogether; and when, without going into particulars to corroborate the conjecture, it may be presumed that the populace determined to support what they called their “charter,” under the colour of the “Holland” interest, in opposition to the civic authorities. The scene of uproar always commenced in Cloth-fair, and the present existence of an annual custom there, throws some light on the matter. At “the Hand and Shears,” a public-house in that place, it is the usage, at this time, for tailors to assemble the night before the Fair is proclaimed by the lord mayor. They appoint a chair. man, and exactly as the clock strikes twelve, he and his companions, each with a pair of shears in his hand, leave the house, and, in the open street of Clothfair, the chairman makes a speech and proclaims “Bartholomew Fair.” As soon as he concludes, every tailor holds up and snaps his shears with a shout, and they retire, shears in hand, snapping and shouting, to the “Hand and Shears,” from whence they came forth; but the mob, who await without, to witness the ceremony, immediately upon its being ended, run out into Smithfield, and being joined by others there shout again. This second assemblage and shouting is called “the mob proclaiming the Fair;” and so begins the annual mob, called “Lady Holland's mob.” Since 1822, the great body have confined their noise to Smithfield itself, and their number and disorder annually decrease.

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