CHAPTER V.

FLEET STREET.

THREE FIGHTS AND A SCRATCH, IN THE WAY TO THE DEVIL.

Your words have took such pains, as if they laboured to bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling upon the head of

valour."-SHAKSPEARE.

"How merrily the bells troll on," said Walker, to his friend Ingoldsby, as they walked arm-in-arm through Fleet-street.

"Yea," replied the colonel," the steeplehouses reel as though old mother church were drunk with joy. Now if you and I and your brother Matt, were not kalendar'd with the outed sanctified ones: almanack'd with the pure in spirit: we might change the colour of our cloth, turn parsons, and cast lots for fat cures. Well done old dame Bridget, alias Saint Bride; for doubtless all churches will be sainted again,

though the saints must take their turn at mumping it for a season. 'Tis all comical for certain. I wonder that commercial Jew chap, master Mordecai, does not rummage rag fair for gowns and cassocks; though I'd be sworn, the moths have had a belly-full of that fare of late years. What say you Walker,-suppose we turn tailors, -your college robe-stitchers? by the Lord! and that will be a roaring trade. It was but yesterday, rowing the other side of the river, and your black-dyers, of Bank-side, were rincing their clothes. The Thames was running dingy as a smithy water-trough. Devil a bit of white-bait at Black-wall for one while. Your aldermen must forego that dainty dish, 'till your parsons are all new rigged. Bravo old mother Bridget, that was a smart volley." The bells were firing, as it is called by the ringers, all striking their clappers by one simultaneous pull. "Bravo! my old girl-better and better. This is a feu de joie of the old church militant, for her victory over the saints, Ha-ha-ha-ha; I'll be d-d if the very churches are not roaring with the general madness. Orare, the vigil of the Restoration!"

"Nay, nay! my brother soger," said Matt Barlowe, " 'tis better to be merry than sad."

"Sad!" exclaimed Ingoldsby; "I am gay as a May-pole, all the world dancing around me. All this row-dy-dow for the godly ministers, ha-ha-ha. So let's you and I Matt, and brother Bob, go and booze it with mine host of the Devil. Come along Matt, how gaily the houses are lighted up: by the lord 'tis universal holiday. Ha-ha-ha, the honest old tapster gave me a purse; an old debt, said he. Well done old true-penny, what is got over the devil's back, is spent under his belly, says the adage. We will have a right royal spree to night, why not!-and be as merry as the cavaliers."

"Hey! what I have overtaken you Master Walker," said Mohun the comedian, placing his arms between him and Ingoldsby; "well and how fares it colonel?" "Bravely my noble," returned the soldier; "what, and Master Barlowe too, whither are you rambling my gents ?"

"We are bound west-ward, as you may perceive," said Walker; "republicans like, going to the Devil."

"Why all the world is flocking thither it seems," said the player. "I shall be there by and bye, to meet an old comrade, Sir William Davenant. I shall be glad to introduce you, he is a noble fellow, and will be happy to see my friends. I'll join you again in a twinkling," when looking up as he turned the corner of White-friars, he observed rather loudly, “what a beautiful star-light, I hope we shall have a fine morrow."

"God send it may rain cats, dogs, and pitchforks, prongs downwards!" boisterously exclaimed a passing stranger. He was a strapping fellow, and a roundhead of course.

"So say I," returned a loyal London apprentice; "and I would not pick up the first that came to hand,--stick it into your parliamentary guts, and pitch you on your own beggarly dung

hill.""

"Beggar, hey!" retorted the evil wisher; "I'll soon see if you can make a beggar of me.”

"A ring, a ring," was the sudden cry. They stripped; the apprentice was no stripling though; and, shaking hands, to fisty-cuffs they went, hammer and tongs.

Within a few seconds the street was blocked up by the crowd; all heads were out at window, men and women. The boys, and even the girls, old enough to sit up to supper, thrusting their white faces between. "O! how shocking," said the little misses. "Give it him," cried the boys. "Look, look, father, how well they fights." Yea, the boy brats in the nursery, hearing what was the matter, squalled to the maids to take them out of bed, to "let 'em have a look."

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They are tough blades: ods my life! what a tremendous blow!" said Walker, shuddering at the sight. "Pick him up," was the cry. "Go it again, Geoffrey; that's your mark. haugh-hoo-0-0-0-haugh. Now, Geoffrey, now pepper him; that's a good one. Lay it into him, Martin; that's your play; follow him up; haugh-hoo-haugh. Give 'em room. Stand back there. Shin 'em, shin 'em. Now! now! now! haugh; follow him up. Go it my brave cock; haugh, that's it; follow him close; tip it

him! tip it him!"

"Shame! shame! on you;

arn't you

ashamed, you hulking fellows; 'ods curse you,