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CHAPTER XI.

RAILLY, Master Jackimo, I'm quite ashamed on your laziness! you only gits up to lie down, and only lies down to git up! and, instead of making your bow to the ladies and gentlemen, and holding out your cap to catch the coppers, you are everlastingly a-doing o' nuffin but pulling up your shirt-collar, and cracking o' nuts. Hav'n't I treated you more like a relation than a monkey -giving you the best of adwice? But if ever I find you at your old fun ag'in, as sure as my name's Blinking Billy, I'll take off your goold scarlet waistcoat!"

This was addressed by an itinerant musician, in a shocking bad hat, with a garnish of old red cotton nightcaps, to his mendicant monkey, that he had perched upon Whittington's Stone for the purpose of taking him more conveniently to task.

The offender was of a grave aspect, with a remarkably knowing look. He was dressed en militaire, with an old-fashioned scarlet waistcoat embroidered with tinsel, of which he seemed monstrously vain. He listened with becoming seriousness to the musician's expostulation, slyly reserving in the corner of his jaw a nut that he deferred to crack till opportunity should offer. But at the threat of losing his red waistcoat, he gibbered, chattered, and by every species of pantomimical begging and bowing, promised future amend

ment.

Had not the mind of Uncle Timothy been too much occupied with recent events, he would have scraped acquaintance with monkey and man, who were evidently eccentrics, and Uncle Tim was a lover of eccentricity. The moment that the monkey spied a customer, he began his work of reformation, by jumping off the stone, running the full tether of his chain, making a graceful bow, and holding out his cap for a contribution. His politeness was rewarded with sixpence from Uncle Timothy, and an approving word from his master; and the middle-aged gentleman, sere

naded by a passing grind from the barrel-organ, walked slowly on.

A caravansary of exhibitors bound to Bartholomew Fair had halted at Mother Red Cap's,' an ancient hostelrie at the foot of Highgate Hill. Although weary and parched with thirst, Uncle Timothy might probably have journeyed onward, had not the "beck'ning ghost" of jovial John

:

1 Mother Red Cap, doubtless an emanation from Elinour Rumming, was a favourite sign during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the black Jack that she held in her hand was a symbol of good ale. Two ancient hostelries still bear her prepossessing effigy one in the Hampstead Road, near Kentish Town; and one at Holloway. It is said that a remarkable shrew, Mother Damnable, of Kentish town, (of whom the late Mr. Bindley had an unique engraving,) gave rise to the former sign. This ill-favoured lady looks more like a witch than an ale-wife. She would have frightened her customers out of the house, and their horses out of the stable! We are inclined to give the palm of priority to the venerable red-capped mother at Holloway, who must have been moderately notorious in the time of Drunken Barnaby, when he halted to regale himself at her portal.

"Thence to Holloway, Mother Red-cap

In a troop of trulls I did hap;

Wh-s of Babylon me impalled,
And me their Adonis called;

With me toy'd they, buss'd me, cull'd me,
But being needy, out they pulled me."

VOL. I.

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1

Backster, flitting in the evening grey, motioned

him, in imagination, to enter. He made his way to the low-roofed side parlour, where were assembled a troop of showmen and conjurors. One fellow was busily employed in shaving a baboon,2 which he intended to exhibit as a fairy; and another was rasping the rough chin of a muzzled

1 John Backster kept the Mother Red Cap at Holloway in 1667. We are in possession of his very curious and rare Token, on the right side of which is engraved Mother Red Cap holding a Black Jack, with his initials of "J. B. His Half Peny:" and on the reverse, "John Backster, att-th Mother Read-Cupp in hollway, 1667."

2 The baboon and the monkey were popular drolls in ancient times. The following lines occur in a work called "Ayres or Phantasticke Sprites for three Voices," published by Thomas Weelkes, "Batchelar of Musicke," 1608.

"The ape, the monkey, and baboon did meet, And breaking of their fast in, Friday Street;

bear, that bore the operation with exemplary patience, sitting in an arm-chair, dressed in a check waiscoat and trowsers, in his professional character of an Ethiopian savage! A conjuror was looking at a large dragon-fly through a magnifying glass, to see how it would pass off for the great high German highter-flighter; and the proprietor of an aviary was supplying a young blackbird with an artificial comb and wattles of red velvet, to find a customer for him as the great cocky, or olla bird of the desert. A showman was mending the fractured bridge of Mr. Punch's nose, while his stage-manager tried a new tail on the devil.1

Two of them sware together solemnlv
In their three natures was a sympathy.
'Nay,' quoth Baboon, I do deny that strain,
I have more knavery in me than you twain.’

"Why,' quoth the Ape, 'I have a horse at will

In Paris Garden, for to ride on still,

And there show tricks.'-' Tush,' quoth the Monkey, 'I For better tricks in great men's houses lie.'

'Tush!' quoth Baboon ; when men do know I come,

For sport from town and country they will run.""

1 In some of the old plays the devil was dressed in a black suit, painted with flames, and made to shine.. "Let the devil wear black for me, I'll have a suit of sables," says Hamlet. In the mysteries and moralities of an earlier date, he was decorated with a hairy dress, like a wild beast.