We passed through the gloomy bar and entered
a little pug's parlour, whose floor was carpeted
with sawdust and set out with spittoons. The
speaker had taken the chair, at the end of the
room, but the Areopagus had not yet assembled.
The speaker, a stolid-looking wooden-headed
man, sat in moody silence, smoking a long clay
pipe, and taking an occasional sip from a half-
pint pewter.

"Jem," said the chairman to the potboy, who
acted as waiter, in his shirt-sleeves; " another
'alf pint, and don't bring this here hockerd
thins of a pot as ain't got ne'er a handle."

"Who's he?" I asked.

"A gentleman of the vestry, a great man in
the parish, one of the Works committee."

Presently in bounces a dapper little man with
a blue apron, and a very shiny head of hair.
He addresses the chair.

"Well, old Buttertub, and 'ow do you find
yourself?"

"Who are you a calling Buttertub," says the
chairman, very indignant.

"Lor', he doesn't like it," says the dapper
little man, winking at us. " Jem" (this to the
potboy), " 'alf a pint like lightning, sharp's the
word, quick's the motion—slap bang here
we are again, here we are again, here we are
again!" And the dapper little man goes up to
the looking-glass, twists a greasy curl round
each ear, ana does a little dance to the tune.

"Who is he?" I ask.

"Gentleman of the vestry, member of the
sanitary committee."

"Oh, indeed," I said.

And now the parish legislators come trooping
in thick and fast, and almost every one as he
passes the landlord, who is sitting smoking a
long pipe near the door, facetiously puts
himself in a fighting attitude, gives a pantomimic
slap, and pretends to have received a severe
blow in the eye. After this performance they
pass on to their seats, each one as he sits down
taking up a long clay pipe, and clearing out the
bowl with his little finger. Orders now pour
upon Jem the potboy in a volley, and I observe
that they are mostly for half pints and screws.
When the half pints are brought, the legislators
look into them to see that they are quite full,
then dip the stems of their pipes into the porter,
and forthwith begin to smoke.

Look round the room now that they are all in
their places solemnly puffing. With the exception
of the two visitors, they are all parish
authorities—all gentlemen of the vestry, or officials
of some kind. Before they begin to betray
themselves in speech, you can scarcely credit that
they are all men of the same class. Yonder is
one respectably dressed in black; who, judging
from his appearance, might be a City merchant;
next to him is a man without any shirt collar,
his neck swathed in a wisp of silk handkerchief
—to all appearance, a groom.  Opposite sits a
stolid pig-faced man, who might be the keeper
of a toll-gate, or a porter at Doctors' Commons.
Close by is a heavy swell with curled moustache,
velvet collar, great expanse of gold chain on a
black satin waistcoat, and glossy hat with turned
up brim. Next to him a bricklayer-looking
person, with his trousers turned up at the ankles,
and the marks of lime on his slop jacket. There
are also two or three young men whom you might
judge to be carpenters, who had " cleaned
themselves" for an evening party. While they preserve
silence, they seem to be a most heterogeneous
assembly. But they are all hail-fellows-well-met
here. I observe that they pride themselves upon
their powers of repartee, or, as it is called here,
"chaff." They stab each other through their
pursuits. Thus one, who is a poulterer, is hailed
as "Turkey-cock," who retorts by calling his
assailant " old Pork-and-peas-pudd'n." A
gentleman in the building line, is addressed as
"Chimbley-pots;" and the chairman is known to
the company generally, as " Wooden'ead." Says
one, "Chimbley-pots, where 'ave you bin today?"
To which Chimbley-pots replies, "Bin on the
stink." Which, on being interpreted, I find
means that, as a member of the sanitary
committee, he has been inspecting nuisances. " I
say, old Pork-and-peas-pudd'n, 'ow much do you
give Chimbley-pots for looking the other way
when he passes the trotter-shop?"

"Well, I gives him good weight when he
comes to my shop, and that's more nor he gets
at yourn."

"Ah, he 'ad you there, Charley!" The chairman
says to his neighbour that Charley "got
one for hisself that time." The heavy swell
interposes, and says that such hobservations is
disrespectful to the 'ouse.

"I'll 'ave a strait-jacket made for Charley,"
says the landlord, "and take him down to
'Anwell."

"Or Colney 'Atch," says another.

Presently the conversation turns upon the
political affairs of the parish, when the honourable
members assume a semi-parliamentary
manner, and use fine words. They " join issue"
with each other, when they mean to do exactly
the opposite; they talk about bringing matters
to a quietus, apparently meaning a conclusion or a
climax; a sanitary committee-man declares five
shillings a day as the pay of an inspector of
nuisances to be " abnormal," by which I under-
stand him to mean " too little."

"Quite enough too," says a head of the
paving department. " What do you do with it?
Why, ride up and down in a omnibus, and
drink drains."

"Instead of cleansing of 'em," says another.

"Look here, Joe"—this as a warning and a
piece of advice to the last speaker—"if you
want to get into the vestry, you keep quiet.
Hear, see, and say nothink."

It is evident that the person who made that
cutting remark about the cleansing of the drains
has aspirations in the direction indicated; for he
turns very red in the face, and says, apologetically,
that he meant no offence.

Surely, I thought, my friend is hoaxing me;
these cannot be the men to whom we entrust
the management of the affairs of this great and
important parish. Are these the guardians of