and dispirited with the noise, the dirt, the
smell, the horrible labyrinth he has wandered
into, and the howling fiends that come dancing
and fighting from it, that he feels half
inclined to throw himself under the wheels of the
fire-engine that comes tearing by (there always
is a fire — when there is'nt a murder— going on
in the vicinity of Seven Dials), or to rush into
any one of the seven gin-palaces that stare at
him like seven Acherons, and drink himself to
madness with vitriolic acid and coculus
indicus : this desirable state of things being
arrived, and state of mind attained, I beg to
offer to the peripatetic a friendly remedy
against suicide or insanity. He will find solace,
amusement, and instruction, in the contemplation
of " cocks." Seven Dials is the birth-place
and home thereof, and abounds with them.

Now, a cock is a lie. It is, however, so far
different from and above simple mendacity,
that to succeed, it must be a lie pictorial, a lie
literary, a lie poetical, a lie political, or a lie
dramatic. And, it must be, above all things,
a lie typographical; for an imprinted Chanticleer
is a mere rumour, that brings profit to no
one; whereas, printed, it is sold for a halfpenny,
and brings bread into the mouth of the seller.

In all the streets and off streets that pullulate
round the Dials—in every shabby slum
by night and by day,—in the midst of the fried
fish, the dubiously fresh herrings, the radishes,
onions, inferior bread, tainted meat, penny
looking-glasses, tin Dutch-ovens, ragged children,
hulking men, beaten women, drunken
everybody; cabbage-leaves, dead cats, mud-
carts, garbage, gin-cholera, typhus and death,
—to the cultivation of all which, animal and
vegetable products, the soil of Seven Dials
is wondrously favourable — there are to be
found, surrounded by admiring and attentive
audiences, certain shabby men, known as
patterers, long song sellers, street ballad-
singers, dealers in cocks. There is a sallow
artist with a blue, bristly beard. He is clad
in an absurd masquerade costume of patched,
faded drugget, one side of which in gray
and the other yellow. The entire suit is
plentifully sprinkled with a coarse embroidery
of broad arrows, letters, and numbers. A vile
felt hat, of the approved Woolwich or hulk-
patter, covers his head (which, with a view to
further effect is closely cropped), and to his
ankles are attached a pair of jingling,
clattering fetters. The whole of this
picturesque habiliment is supposed to
represent that of a convict; and the convict
himself gives out with stentorian,
though somewhat rusty lungs, a recitation
partly in prose, partly in verse, of the
Orrors of Transportation; being the Sufferings
of me William Cockburn condemned
unjustly (cela va sans dire) to be banished
from His native country, serving for life in
Chains in the Ulks in Norfolk Island with
my Dangers from Savages and Wild Beestes
and the Cruelties inflicted on him by order of
the British Ministers. Some of the orrors
of transportation and the sufferings of the ill-
used William Cockburn are depicted in water
colours, most vilely, upon a placard stuck on
a pole, bannerwise, which he carries in his
hand. On the placard you may see ferocious
dragoons spearing William Cockburn with
lances, while ruthless grenadiers in scarlet
prod him behind with fixed bayonets. In
one compartment, the miserable William is
represented undergoing the Horrid Punishment
of the Lash : the cat having at least
nine times nine tails, and the blood spouting
from the back in a perfect cascade of crimson.
In another, fierce savages, black and
decorated with bells, catch William Cockburn,
and cook him in a pot and eat him ;
in another, the dreadful wild beestes career
about the wilds of Norfolk Island,
desperately clinging to a palm-tree in the
midst. Among the wild beestes there are
blue lions, tigers of a fiery scarlet hue,
and many other infuriated animals whose
conformation almost induces the supposition
that the griffin is not yet extinct,
that the unicorn is yet to be found in the
Australian latitudes, and that the dragon of
Wantley has removed to and nourishes in
Norfolk Island. William Cockburn carries a
pile of printed papers, in which the horrors
and sufferings he has endured are neatly set
forth for family reading. The type, it must
be acknowledged, is somewhat damaged,
somewhat broken, and now and then, for a
phrase or two, wanting altogether. William's
style is diffuse without eloquence, and satirical
without humour ; but the price is only one
halfpenny, and the convict is surely worthy
of his hire.

The audience who surround the sufferer
are variously affected towards him. Some
(the female portion especially) express their
opinion that it is "a shame," and ejaculate
"poor fellow!" The boys venture conjectures
as to "what it was fur?" and how
he managed to effect his escape; many
of a misanthropic turn of mind pronounce
the whole transaction "gammon"—but buy
a halfpennyworth, notwithstanding; while
one individual who stands a little aloof,
chewing the cud of reflection and a flower-
stalk—a gentleman whose jacket is of
velveteen, greasy; whose trousers are of corduroy,
also greasy; whose neck is of the bull's, whose
mouth of the mastiff's, whose eye of the wolf's;
about whose breast-pocket there is a certain
bulging, as if he kept his life-preserver there;
this gentleman says nothing; but, as William
Cockburn descants upon the horrors of
transportation, he softly whistles, and I really
think he could if he chose tell William Cockburn
a few things concerning Woolwich,
broad arrows, fetters and bayonets, which
would astonish him. I think, too, that he
could produce a more interesting piece of
reading than one of William's halfpenny
cocks, in the shape of an unpretending
parchment document, which Lord Viscount