“Well thought of, indeed,” said Dashall; “it is a house where you may at all times be certain of good accommodation and respectable society—besides, I have some acquaintance there of long standing, and may probably meet with them; so have with you, my boys. The Woolpack in Cornhill,” continued he, addressing himself more particularly to Tallyho, “is a house that has been long established, and deservedly celebrated for its general accommodations, partaking as it does of the triple qualifications of tavern, chop-house, and public-house. Below stairs is a commodious room for smoking parties, and is the constant resort of foreigners,{1}
1 There is an anecdote related, which strongly induces a belief that Christian VII. while in London, visited this house in company with his dissipated companion, Count Holcke, which, as it led to the dismissal of Holcke, and the promotion of the afterwards unfortunate Struensée, and is perhaps not very generally known, we shall give here. One day while in London, Count Holcke and Christian vir. went to a well-known public-house not far from the Bank, which was much frequented by Dutch and Swedish Captains: Here they listened to the conversation of the company, which, as might be expected, was full of expressions of admiration and astonishment at the splendid festivities daily given in honour of Christian VII. Count Holcke, who spoke German in its purity, asked an old Captain what he thought of his King, and if he were not proud of the honours paid to him by the English?—“I think (said the old man dryly) that with such counsellors as Count Holcke, if he escapes destruction it will be a miracle.”—' Do you know Count Holcke, my friend, (said the disguised courtier) as you speak of him thus familiarly?'—“Only by report (replied the Dane); but every person in Copenhagen pities the young Queen, attributing the coolness which the King shewed towards her, ere he set out on his voyage, to the malicious advice of Holcke.” The confusion of this minion may be easier conceived than described; whilst the King, giving the Skipper a handful of ducats, bade him speak the truth and shame the devil. As soon, however, as the King spoke in Danish, the Skipper knew him, and looking at him with love and reverence, said in a low, subdued tone of voice—” Forgive me, Sire, but I cannot forbear my tears to see you exposed to the temptations of this extensive and wicked Metropolis, under the pilotage of the most dissolute nobleman of Denmark.” Upon which he retired, bowing profoundly to his Sovereign, and casting at Count Holcke a look full of defiance and reproach. Holcke's embarrassment was considerably increased by this, and he was visibly hurt, seeing the King in a manner countenanced the rudeness of the Skipper. This King, who it should seem determined to see Real Life in London, mingled in all societies, participating in their gaieties and follies, and by practices alike injurious to body and soul, abandoned himself to destructive habits, whose rapid progress within a couple of years left nothing but a shattered and debilitated hulk afflicted in the morning of life with all the imbecility of body and mind incidental to extreme old age.
who are particularly partial to the brown stout, which they can obtain there in higher perfection than in any other house in London. Brokers and others, whose business calls them to the Royal Exchange, are also pretty constant visitors, to meet captains and traders—dispose of different articles of merchandise—engage shipping and bind bargains—it is a sort of under Exchange, where business and refreshment go hand in hand with the news of the day, and the clamour of the moment; beside which, the respectable tradesmen of the neighbourhood meet in an evening to drive dull care away, and converse on promiscuous subjects; it is generally a mixed company, but, being intimately connected with our object of seeing Real Life in London, deserves a visit. On the first floor is a good room for dining, where sometimes eighty persons in a day are provided with that necessary meal in a genteel style, and at a moderate price—besides other rooms for private parties. Above these is perhaps one of the handsomest rooms in London, of its size, capable of dining from eighty to a hundred persons. But you will now partake of its accommodations, and mingle with some of its company.”
By this time they had passed the Royal Exchange, and Tom was enlarging upon the new erections lately completed; when all at once,
“Hallo,” said Bob, “what is become of our party?” “All right,” replied his Cousin; “they have given us the slip without slipping from us—I know their movements to a moment, we shall very soon be with them—this way—this way,” said he, drawing Bob into the narrow passage which leads to the back of St. Peter's Church, Cornhill—“this is the track we must follow.”
Tallyho followed in silence till they entered the house, and were greeted by the Landlord at the bar with a bow of welcome; passing quickly to the right, they were saluted with immoderate volumes of smoke, conveying to their olfactory nerves the refreshing fumes of tobacco, and almost taking from them the power of sight, except to observe a bright flame burning in the middle of the room. Tom darted forward, and knowing his way well, was quickly seated by the side of Merrywell, Mortimer, and Harry; while Tallyho was seen by those who were invisible to him', groping his way in the same direction, amidst the laughter of the company, occasionally interlarded with scraps which caught his ear from a gentleman who was at the moment reading some of the comments from the columns of the Courier, in which he made frequent pauses and observations.
“Why, you can't see yourself for smoke,” said one; “D———n it how hard you tread,” said another. And then a line from the Reader came as follows—“The worthy Alderman fought his battles o'er again—Ha, ha, ha—Who comes here 1 upon my word, Sir, I thought you had lost your way, and tumbled into the Woolpack instead of the Skin-market.—' It is a friend of mine, Sir.'—That's a good joke, upon my soul; not arrived yet, why St. Martin's bells have been ringing all day; perhaps he is only half-seas over—Don't tell me, I know better than that—D———n that paper, it ought to be burnt by—The fish are all poison'd by the Gas-light Company—Six weeks imprisonment for stealing two dogs!—Hides and bark—How's sugars to-day?—Stocks down indeed—Yes, Sir, and bread up—Presto, be gone—What d'ye think of that now, eh?—Gammon, nothing but gammon—On table at four o'clock ready dressed and—Well done, my boy, that's prime.”
These sentences were uttered from different parts of the room in almost as great a variety of voices as there must have been subjects of conversation; but as they fell upon the ear of Tallyho without connection, he almost fancied himself transported to the tower of Babel amidst the confusion of tongues.
“Beg pardon,” said Tallyho, who by this time had gained a seat by his Cousin, and was gasping like a turtle for air—“I am not used to this travelling in the dark; but I shall be able to see presently.”
“See,” said Frank Harry, “who the devil wants to see more than their friends around them? and here we are at home to a peg.”