Now is a busy day in London, for wardmotes are held in the city by the aldermen of every ward, “for the election of officers for the year ensuing;” and hence, in the social public rooms of the citizens, there is great debate this evening, on the merits of the common-council-men returned without opposition, or on the qualifications of candidates who contest the poll for two days longer. The “Lumber-Troop” muster strong at their head-quarters near Gough-square; the “codgers” enlighten each other and their pipes in Bride-lane; the “Counsellors under the Cauliflower” hold divided council, they know where; and the “free and easy Johns” are to night more free than easy. These societies are under currents that set in strong, and often turn the tide of an election in favour of some “good fellow,” who is good no where but in “sot’s-hole.”
And now the “gentlemen of the inquest,” chosen “at the church” in the morning, dine together as the first important duty of their office; and the re-elected ward-beadles are busy with the fresh chosen constables; and the watchmen are particularly civil to every “drunken gentleman” who happens to look like one of the new authorities. And now the bellman, who revives the history and poetry of his predecessors, will vociferate—
On St. Thomas’s Day.
My masters all, this is St. Thomas’ Day,
And Christmas now can’t be far off, you’ll say,
But when you to the Ward-motes do repair,
I hope such good men will be chosen there,
As constables for the ensuing year
As will not grutch the watchmen good strong beer.[539]
Or,
Upon the Constables first going out.
The world by sin is so degenerate grown,
Scarce can we strictly call our own, our own;
But by the patronage your watch affords,
The thief in vain shall ’tempt the tradesman’s hoards:
Their nightly ease enjoys each happy pair,
Secure as those who first in Eden were:
When willing quires of angels, as they slept,
O’er their soft slumbers watchful centry kept.[540]
Doleing Day.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.