Chapter I: II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX (1)

X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV.

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF DICK TURPIN.

London: W. S. FORTEY, PRINTER & PUBLISHER,
MONMOUTH COURT, BLOOMSBURY, W.C.

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DICK TURPIN.

RICHARD TURPIN was born at Hempstead, in Essex, where his father kept the sign of the Bell; and after being the usual time at school, he was bound apprentice to a butcher in Whitechapel, but did not serve out his time, for his master discharged him for impropriety of conduct, which was not in the least diminished by his parents' indulgence in supplying him with money, which enabled him to cut a figure round the town, among the blades of the road and the turf, whose company he usually kept.

His friends, thinking that marriage would reclaim him, persuaded him to marry, which he did with one Hester Palmer, of East Ham in Essex, but he had not long been married before he became acquainted with a gang of thieves, whose depredations terrified the whole county of Essex, and the neighbourhood of London. He joined sheep stealing to foot-pad robbery; and was at last obliged to fly from his place of residence for stealing a young heifer, which he killed and cut up for sale.

Soon after, he stole two oxen from one Farmer Giles, of Plaistow, and drove them to a Butcher's slaughtering house, near Waltham Abbey.

He was followed there, but made his escape out of the window of the house where he was, just as they were entering the door.

He now retreated into the Hundreds of Essex, where he found more security: he adopted a new scheme; and that was to rob the smugglers, but he took care not to attack a gang, only solitary travellers, this he did with a colour of justice, for he pretended to have a deputation from the Customs, and demanded their property in the king's name.

He again joined the gang with whom he had before connected himself, the principal part of those depredations were committed upon Epping Forest, &c.

But this soon becoming an object of magisterial enquiry, he again returned to the solitude of the country, with some more of the gang, and they became notorious deer-stealers, and Turpin being a good shot, sent many a buck up to his connections in London.

DICK TURPIN. 3

They next determined to commence house-breakers; and in this they were much encouraged by joining with Gregory's gang, as it was then called, a company of desparadoes that made the Essex and adjacent roads very dangerous to travel.

Somehow or other, Turpin became acquainted with the circumstances of an old woman, that lived at Laughton, that kept a great quantity of cash by her; whereupon they agreed to rob her; and when they came to the door, Wheeler knocked and Turpin and the rest forcing their way into the house, blindfolded the eyes of the old woman and her maid, and tied the legs of her son to the bedstead, but not finding the wished-for booty, they held a consultation, as they were certain she must have a considerable sum concealed. Turpin told her he knew she had money, and it was in vain to deny it, for have it they would. The old lady persisted that she had none, but Turpin insisting she had money, he swore he would put her on the fire. She continued obstinate and endured for some time, when they took her off the grate, and robbed her of all they could find, upwards of four hundred pounds.

They next proceeded into Surrey, where Turpin and his company robbed Mr. Sheldon's house, near Croydon Church, where they arrived about seven o'clock in the evening. They secured the coachman in the stable. His master hearing some strange voices in the yard, was proceeding to know the cause, when he was met by Turpin, who seizing hold of him compelled him to show them the way into the house, when he secured the door, and confined the rest of the family in one room, here they found but little plate and no cash. From Mr. Sheldon's person they took eleven guineas, two of which Turpin returned him, begged pardon for what they had done, and wished him a good night.

These robberies hitherto had been carried on entirely on foot, with only the occasional assistance of a hackney coach but now they aspired to appear on horse-back, for which purpose they hired horses at the Old Leaping Bar in Holborn, from whence they set out about two o'clock in the afternoon, and arrived at the Queen's Head, Stanmore, where they staid to regale themselves. It was by this means that Wood, the master of the horse, had so good an opportunity of observing the horses, as to remember the same again when he saw them afterwards in Bloomsbury, where they were taken. About five they went from Mr. Wood's to Stanmore and staid from six until seven and then went together for Mr. Lawrence's, about a mile from thence, where they got about half-past seven. On their arrival at Mr. Lawrence's they alighted from their horses at the gate; whereupon Fielder knocked at the door, and calling out Mr. Lawrence. The man servant thinking it to be some of the neighbours, opened the door, upon which they all rushed in with pistols, and seizing Mr.

4 DICK TURPIN

Lawrence and his man, threw a cloth over their faces then fell to rifling their pockets, out of which they took one guinea, and about fifteen shillings in silver, with his keys. They said they must have more, and drove Mr. Lawrence up stairs, where coming to a closet, they broke open the door, and took out from thence two guineas, ten shillings, a silver cup, 13 silver spoons, and two gold rings. They then rifled the house of all they could get, linen, table cloths, shirts, and the sheets off the bed, and trod the beds under feet, to discover if any money was concealed therein. Suspecting there was more money in the house, they then brought Mr. Lawrence down again, and threatened to cut his throat, and Fielder put a knife to it, as though he intended to do it; to make him confess what money was in the house. One of them took a chopping bill, and threatened to cut off his leg: they then broke his head with their pistols, and dragged him about by the hair of his head. Another of them took the kettle off the fire, and flung it upon him; but it did no other harm just wetting him, because the maid had just before taken out the greater part of the boiling water, and filled it again with cold. After this they dragged him about again, swearing they would "do for him" if he did not immediately inform them where the rest of the money was hid. They then proceeded to make a further search; and then withdrew; threatening to return again in half an hour, and kill every one

DICK TURPIN. 5

they found loose. So saying they locked them in the parlour and threw the keys down the area.

Turpin by this robbery got but little, for out of the 26_l_, they took in the whole, he distributed it among them all but three guineas and six shillings and six pence.

A proclamation was issued for the apprehension of the offenders, and a pardon and 50_l_ was offered to any of the party who would impeach his accomplices, which however, had no effect. The white Hart in Drury-lane was their place of rendezvous. Here they planned their nightly visits, and here they divided their spoil, and spent the money they acquired.

The robbery being stated to the officers of Westminster, Turpin set off to Alton, where he met with an odd encounter, which got him the best companion he ever had, as he often declared. King, the highwayman, as he was returning from this place to London, being well dressed and mounted, Turpin seeing him have the appearance of a substantial gentleman, rode up to him, and thinking him a fair mark, bid him stand and deliver, and therewith producing his pistols, King fell a laughing at him, and said "what dog rob dog! Come, come, brother Turpin, if you don't know me, I know you, and shall be glad of your company." After a mutual communication of circumstances to each other, they agreed to keep company, and divide good or ill fortune as the trumps might turn up. In fact King was true to him to the last, which was for more than three years.

They met with various fortunes; but being too well known to

6 DICK TURPIN.

remain long in one place, and as no house that knew them would receive them in it, they formed the resolution of making themselves a cave, covered with bevins and earth, and for that purpose pitched upon a convenient place, enclosed with a thicket, situated on the Waltham side of Epping, near the sign of the King's Oak.

In this place Turpin lived, ate, drank, and lay, for the space of six years, during the first three of which he was enlivened by the drollery of his companion, Tom King, who was a fellow of infinite humour in telling stories, and of an unshaken resolution in attack or defence.

One day, as they were spying from their cave, they discovered a gentleman riding by, that King knew very well to be a rich merchant near Gresham College. This gentleman was in his chariot, and wife with him; his name was Bradele. King first attacked him on the Laughton road; but he being a man of great spirit, offered to make resistence, thinking there was but one; upon which King called Turpin, and bid him hold the horses' heads. They proceeded first to take his money, which he readily parted with, but demurred a good while about his watch, being the dying bequest of his father. King was insisting to take it away, when Turpin interposed, and said, they were more gentlemen than to deprive anyone of their friend's respect which they wore about them, and bid King desist from his demand.

On the day after this transaction they went to the Red Lion ale house, in Aldersgate street, where they had not been more than half an hour, when Turpin heard of the approach of the chief constable and his party; they mounted each their horse; but before King could get fairly seated he was seized by one of the party, and called on Dick to fire. Turpin replied, "If I do, I shall hit you." "Fire, if you are my friend." said King--Turpin fired, but the ill-fated ball took effect in King's breast. Dick stood a moment in grief, but self-preservation made him urge his mare forward to elude his pursuers; it was now he resolved on a journey to York, and raising himself in his saddle, he said, "By G--, I will do it." Encouraged by "Harkaway Bess," she flew on.

Astonishing to relate, he reached York the same evening and was noticed playing at bowls in the bowling-green with several gentlemen there, which circumstance saved him from the hands of justice for a time. His pursuers coming up and seeing Turpin, knew him; and caused him to be taken into custody; one of them swore to him and the horse he rode on, which was the identical one he arrived upon in that city; but on being in the stable, and its rider at play, and all in the space of four-and-twenty hours, his alibi was admitted; for the magistrates of York could not believe it possible for one horse to cover the ground, being upwards of 190 miles, in so short a space.

DICK TURPIN. 7

For the last two years of his life he seems to have confined his residence to the county of York, where he appears to be a little known. He often accompanied the neighbouring gentlemen in their parties of hunting and shooting; and one evening, on a return from an expedition of the latter kind, he saw one of his landlord's cocks in the street, which he shot.

The next day Mr. Hall received a letter from Robert Appleton, Long Sutton, with this account:--that the said John Palmer had lived there about three quarters of a year, and had before that been once apprehended, and made his escape, and that they had a strong suspicion he was guilty of horse-stealing.

Another information gave notice, that he had stolen a horse from Captain Dawson, of Ferraby; his horse was that which Turpin rode on when he came to Beverley, and which he stole from off Hickinton Fen in Lincolnshire.

He wrote to his father upon being convicted, to use his interest to get him off for transportation, but his fate was at hand, his notoriety caused application to be ineffectual.

After he had been in prison five months, he was removed from Beverley to York Castle to take his trial. When on his trial his case seemed much to affect the hearers. He had two trials, upon both of which he was convicted upon the fullest evidence. After a long trial the Jury brought in their Verdict and found him Guilty.

He was carried in a cart to the place of execution, on Saturday, April, 7th, 1739. He behaved himself with amazing assurance and bowed to the spectators as he passed. It was remarkable that as he mounted the ladder, his right leg trembled, on which he stamped it down with an air, and with undaunted courage looked round about him; and after speaking near half an hour to the topman, threw himself off the ladder, and expired in about five minutes.

W. S. Fortey, Printer, Monmouth Court, Bloomsbury.

"THE CATNACH PRESS,"
(ESTABLISHED 1813.)

WILLIAM S. FORTEY,
(Sole Successor to the late J. Catnach.)
Printer, Publisher,
AND WHOLESALE STATIONER,
2 & 3, MONMOUTH COURT,
SEVEN DIALS, LONDON, W.C.

The Cheapest and Greatest Variety in the Trade
of Large Coloured Penny Books; Halfpenny
Coloured Books; Farthing Books; Penny and
Halfpenny Panoramas; School Books; Penny and
Halfpenny Song Books; Memorandum Books; Poetry
Cards; Lotteries; Ballads (4000) and Hymns;
Valentines; Scripture Sheets; Christmas Pieces;
Twelfth Night Characters; Carols; Book and
Sheet Almanacks, Envelopes, Note Paper, &c.

W. S. FORTEY begs to inform his Friends and the Public
generally, that after 19 years service he has succeeded
to the business of his late employers (A. Ryle & Co.),
and intends carrying on the same, trusting that his
long experience will be a recommendation, and that no
exertion shall be wanting on his part to merit a
continuance of those favours that have been so
liberally bestowed on that Establishment during the
last 46 years.

1859.

THE LONG SONG-SELLER.

SONGS AND SONG LITERATURE.

"Old songs, old songs--what heaps I knew,
From 'Chevy Chase' to 'Black-eyed Sue';
From 'Flow, thou regal, purple stream,'
To 'Rousseau's melancholy Dream!'
I loved the pensive 'Cabin Boy,'
With earnest truth and real joy.
To greet 'Tom Bowling' and 'Poor Jack';
And, oh! 'Will Watch,' the 'Smuggler' bold,
My plighted troth thou'lt ever hold."
ELIZA COOK.

"Songs! Songs! Songs! Beautiful songs! Love songs! Newest songs! Old songs! Popular songs! Songs, _Three Yards a Penny_!" was a "standing dish" at the "Catnach Press," and Catnach was the Leo X. of street publishers. And it is said that he at one time kept a fiddler on the premises, and that he used to sit receiving ballad-writers and singers, and judging of the merits of any production which was brought to him, by having it sung then and there to some popular air played by his own fiddler, and so that the ballad-singer should be enabled to start at once, not only with the new song, but also the tune to which it was adapted. His broad-sheets contain all sorts of songs and ballads, for he had a most catholic taste, and introduced the custom of taking from any writer, living or dead, whatever he fancied, and printing it side by side with the productions of his own clients.

He naturally had a bit of a taste for old ballads, music, and song writing; and in this respect he was far in advance of many of his contemporaries. To bring within the reach of all the standard and popular works of the day, had been the ambition of the elder Catnach; whilst the son was, _nolens volens_, incessant in his endeavours in trying to promulgate and advance, not the beauty, elegance, and harmony which pervades many of our national airs and ballad poetry, but very often the worst and vilest of each and every description--in other words, those most suitable for street-sale. His stock of songs was very like his customers, diversified. There were all kinds, to suit all classes. Love, sentimental, and comic songs were so interwoven as to form a trio of no ordinary amount of novelty. At ordinary times, when the Awfuls and Sensationals were flat, Jemmy did a large stroke of business in this line.

It is said that when the "Songs--_Three-yards-a-penny_"--first came out and had all the attractions of novelty, some men sold twelve or fourteen dozen on fine days during three or four of the summer months, so clearing between 6s. and 7s. a day, but on the average about 25s. a week profit. The "long songs," however, have been quite superseded by the "Monster" and "Giant Penny Song Books." Still there are a vast number of half-penny ballad-sheets worked off, and in proportion to their size, far more than the "Monsters" or "Giants."

As a rule there are but two songs printed on the half-penny ballad-sheets--generally a new and popular song with another older ditty, or a comic and sentimental, and "adorned" with two woodcuts. These are selected without any regard as to their fitness to the subject, and in most cases have not the slightest reference to the ballad of which they form the head-piece. For instance:--"The Heart that can feel for another" is illustrated by a gaunt and savage looking lion; "When I was first Breeched," by an engraving of a Highlander _sans culotte_; "The Poacher" comes under the cut of a youth with a large watering-pot, tending flowers; "Ben Block" is heralded by the rising sun; "The London Oyster Girl," by Sir Walter Raleigh; "The Sailor's Grave," by the figure of Justice; "Alice Grey" comes under the very dilapidated figure of a sailor, or "Jolly Young Waterman;" "Bright Hours are in store for us yet" is _headed_ with a _tail-piece_ of an urn, on which is inscribed FINIS! "The Wild Boar Hunt," by two wolves chasing a deer; "The Dying Child to its Mother," by an Angel appearing to an old man; "Autumn Leaves lie strew'd around," by a ship in full sail; "Cherry Ripe," by Death's Head and Cross Bones; "Jack at the Windlass," falls under a Roadside Inn; while "William Tell" is presented to the British public in form and style of an old woman nursing an infant of squally nature. Here follow a few examples of the style, also that of some of the ballad-sheets: together with various _verbatim_ imprints used by "THE CATNACH PRESS," chronologically arranged from _circa_ 1813 to the present time.

THE GALLANT _SAILOR_.

London:
Printed by J. Catnach, and sold Wholesale and Retail at
No. 60, Wardour Street, Soho Square.

Farewell thou dear and Gallant Sailor,
Since thou and I have parted been,
Be thou constant and true hearted,
And I will be the same to thee.

CHORUS.

May the winds and waves direct thee,
To some wishful port design'd,
If you love me, don't deceive me,
But let your heart be as true as mine.

* * * * *

When oft times my fancy tells me,
That in battle thou art slain,
With true love I will requite thee,
When thou dost return again.
May the winds, &c.

O RARE TURPIN.

Printed by J. Catnach, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.
Sold by J. Sharman, Cambridge, Bennet, Brighton; & R. Harris, Salisbury.

As I was riding over Hunslow Moor,
There I saw a lawyer riding before,
And I asked him if he was not afraid,
To meet bold Turpin that mischievous blade.
CHORUS.--I asked him if he was not afraid,
To meet bold Turpin that mischievous blade.
Says Turpin to the lawyer and for to be cute,
My money I have hid all in my boot,
Says the lawyer to Turpin they mine can't find,
For I have hid mine in the cape of my coat behind.
I rode till I came to a powder mill,
Where Turpin bid the lawyer for to stand still,
For the cape of your coat it must come off,
For my horse is in want of a new saddle cloth.
Now Turpin robbed the lawyer of all his store,
When that's gone he knows where to get more,
And the very next town that you go in,
Tell them you was robb'd by the bold Turpin.

MOUNTAIN MAID.

Printed by J. Catnach, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.
Travellers and Shopkeepers supplied with Sheet Hymns. Patters, and Slip
Songs as Cheap and Good as any Shop in London.

The Mountain Maid from her bower has hied,
And speed to the glassy river's side,
Where the radiant mead shone clear and bright,
And the willows wav'd in the silver light.
On a mossy bank lay a shepherd swain,
He woke his pipe to tuneful strain,
And so blythely gay were the notes he play'd,
That he charm'd the ear of the Mountain Maid.

She step'd with timid fear oppress'd,
While soft sighs swell her gentle breast,
He caught her glance, and mark'd her sigh,
And triumph laugh'd in his sparkling eye.
So softly sweet was the tuneful ditty,
He charmed her tender heart to pity;
And so blithely gay were the notes he play'd,
That he gain'd the heart of the Mountain Maid.

MEET ME IN THE WILLOW GLEN

J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials. Cards, &c. Printed
Cheap. [Symbol: Pointing hand] Country Shops and Travellers supplied.

Meet me in the willow glen,
Where the silvery moon is beaming,
Songs of love I'll sing thee then,
When all the world is dreaming.

Meet me in the willow glen.
When the silver moon is beaming,
Songs of love I'll sing thee then,
If you meet me in the willow glen.

No prying eye shall come love.
No stranger foot be seen.
And the busy village hum, love,
Shall echo through the glen.
Meet me, &c.

DRINK TO ME ONLY
WITH THINE EYES.

J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials. Sold by W. Marshall.
Sold by T. Pierce, Southborough. (Cards Printed Cheap.)

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine,
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine;
The thirst that from my soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sip,
I would not change for thine.

The Mistletoe Bough

Printed by J. Catnach, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials. Sold by Pierce,
Southborough, Bennet, Brighton; and Sharman, Cambridge.

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall,
The baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.
The baron beheld with a father's pride,
His beautiful child, young Lovell's bride:
While she with her bright eyes, seemed to be
The star of the goodly company.
Oh! the mistletoe bough!

"I'm weary of dancing now," she cried!
"Here tarry a moment--I'll hide--I'll hide,
And, Lovell, be sure thou'rt the first to trace
The clue to my secret lurking place."
Away she ran--and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, "Oh! where dost thou hide?
I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear bride."
Oh! the mistletoe bough!

THE _Rose will Cease to Blow_.

Printed by J. Catnach, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials. Sold by T. Batchelor,
14, Hackney Road Crescent; W. Marshall, Bristol. Sold by Bennet
and Boyes, Brighton.

The rose will cease to blow,
The eagle turn a dove,
The streams will cease to flow,
Ere I will cease to love.

The sun shall cease to shine,
The world shall cease to move,
The stars their light resign,
Ere I will cease to love.

I'M A TOUGH
True Hearted Sailor.

J. Catnach, Printer, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials, & at 14, Waterloo
Road, (late Hill's). Country Shops, and Travellers supplied.

I'm a tough true-hearted sailor,
Careless and all that, d'ye see,
Never at the times a railer--
What is time or tide to me?
All must die when fate must will it,
Providence ordains it so;

Every bullet has its billet,
Man the boat, boys--Yeo, heave, yeo!

Life's at best a sea of trouble,
He who fears it is a dunce,
Death, to me, an empty bubble,
I can never die but once,
Blood, if duty bids, I'll spill it,
Yet I have a tear for woe,

Every bullet has its billet, &c.

WHEN BIBO THOUGHT FIT.

Printed and Sold by J. CATNACH, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

When Bibo thought fit from the world to retreat,
As full of champagne as an egg's full of meat;
He wak'd in the boat, and to Charon he said,
He would be rowed back, for he was not yet dead.
'Trim the boat, and sit quiet,' stern Charon replied--
'You may have forgot--you were drunk when you died!'

THE SUN
That Lights the ROSES.

A. Ryle and Co., Printers, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, and 35,
Hanover Street, Portsea, where upwards of 4000 different sorts of
ballads are continually on sale together with 40 new penny song books.

Tho' dimple cheeks may give delight
Where rival beauties blossom;
Th'o balmy lips to love invite,
To extacy the bosom.
Yet sweeter far yon summer sky,
Whose blushing tints discloses,
Give me the lustre beaming eye,
The Sun that lights the Roses.

THE Woodpecker.

London:--Printed by J. Paul & Co., 2 & 3, Monmouth Court.

I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near,
And I said if there's peace to be found it the world,
A heart that is humble might hope for it here.

CHORUS.

Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound,
But the woodpecker tapping in the hollow beech tree.

And here in this lone little wood, I exclaim'd,
With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye,
Who would blush when I prais'd her, and weep if I blam'd,
How blest could I live, and how calm could I die.
Every leaf, &c.

YE Topers All.

London:--Published by Ryle and Paul, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.
Where an immense number of songs are always ready.

Ye topers all drink to the soul,
Of this right honest fellow;
Who always loved a flowing bowl,
And would in death be mellow.
The lamp of life be kindled up,
With spirit stout and glowing;
His heart inspired thus with a cup,
Ascends where nectar's flowing.

Death of Nelson.

London:--Ryle & Co., Printers, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, Bloomsbury.

RECITATIVE.

O'er Nelson's tomb, with silent grief oppress'd
Britannia mourns her hero now at rest.
But these bright laurels ne'er shall fade with years,
Whose leaves are water'd by a Nation's tears.

AIR.

'Twas in Trafalgar's bay,
We saw the Frenchmen lay,
Each heart was bounding then;
We scorned the foreign yoke--
Our ships were British oak,
And hearts of oak our men,
Our Nelson mark'd them on the wave,
Three cheers our gallant seamen gave,
Nor thought of home or beauty;
Along the line this signal ran--
"England expects that every man
This day will do his duty!"

THE SCARLET FLOWER.

A. Ryle & Co., Printers, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, Bloomsbury.

She's gentle as the zephyr,
That sips of every sweet,
She fairer than the fairest lily,
In nature's soft retreat;
Her eyes are like the crystal brok,
As bright and clear to see?
Her lips outshine the Scarlet Flow'r
Of bonny Ellerslie.

THE THORN.

London:--Printed at the "Catnach Press" by W. Fortey, (late A. Ryle)
2 & 3, Monmouth Court. Bloomsbury. (Established 1813.) The Oldest and
Cheapest House in the World for Ballads, (4,000 sorts) Song Books, &c.

From the white blossomed sloe,
My dear Chloe requested,
A sprig her fair breast to adorn;
No by heavens I exclaimed, may I perish
If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.

When I shewed her the ring and implored her to marry
She blushed like the dawning of morn,
Yes I'll consent she replyed if you'll promise,
That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn,
No by heavens I exclaim'd may I perish,
If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.

BANKS OF THE NILE.

Printed at the "Catnach Press" by W. FORTEY, Monmouth Court,
Bloomsbury, the Oldest House in the World for Ballads (4,000 sorts) Song
Books, &c. &c.

Hark! I hear the drums a beating--no longer can I stay,
I hear the trumpets sounding, my love I must away,
We are ordered from Portsmouth many a long mile,
For to join the British soldiers on the banks of the Nile.

Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn,
You'll make me curse and rue the day that ever I was born,
For the parting of my own true love is parting of my life,
So stay at home dear Willie, and I will be your wife.

I will cut off my yellow locks, and go along with you,
I will dress myself in velveteens, and go see Egypt too
I will fight or bear your banner, while kind fortune seems to smile,
And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile.

Poor Crazy JANE.

London:--Printed at the "Catnach Press" by W. S. Fortey, 2 & 3, Monmouth
Court, Bloomsbury. (Established 1813.) The Oldest and Cheapest House in
the World for Ballads, Song Books, Children's Spelling & Reading Books,
Panorama Slips, Almanacks, Valentines, Hymns, Toy Cards, Poetry Cards,
Lotteries, Characters, Note Paper, Envelopes, &c.
[Symbol: Asterism] Shopkeepers and Hawkers supplied on the lowest terms.

Why fair maid in every feature,
Are such signs of fear expressed,
Can a wandering wretched creature,
With such horror fill thy breast.
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee,
Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain,
Not for Kingdom would I harm thee,
Shun not then poor crazy Jane.

Fondly my young heart believed him,
Which was doomed to love but one;
He sighed, he vowed, and I believed him,
He was false, and I'm undone.
From that hour has reason never,
Had her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled, with him for ever
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.

"It was Christmas morning--dear Christmas morning
When bright angels and men kept watch for its dawning--
And merrily Christmas bells were out ringing,
And blithely the children their carols were singing--
'Twas a hundred years agone--or more."

From time immemorial the ballad singer, with his rough and ready broad-sheet, has travelled over the whole surface of the country in all seasons and weathers, yet there was one time of the year, however, when he went out of his every-day path and touched on deeper matters than accidents, politics, prize fights, sporting matches, murders, battles, royalty, famous men and women. Christmas time brought, both to him and his audience, its witness of the unity of the great family of heaven and earth, its story of the life and death of Him in whom that unity stands. Several examples, of Christmas carols and Scripture-sheets, bearing Catnach's imprint lie before us, thanks to the kindness of Mr. W. S. Fortey, Catnach's successor; these broadsides bear several distinctive marks which show that it was an object of more than ordinary care to publishers and ballad singers. In the first place, these Christmas sheets are double the size of the ordinary broad-sheet--measuring 30 inches by 20--and contain four or five carols--generally one long narrative ballad, and three or four short pieces. Each of them having two or three large woodcuts and several of smaller sizes, and having the following distinctive titles--The Trial of Christ. Faith, Hope, and Charity. Our Saviour's Love. The Tree of Life. The Crucifixion. The Saviour of Mankind. The Messiah. The Harp of Israel. The Saviour's Garland. Divine Mirth. And The Life of Joseph, to which is appended:--

LONDON: PRINTED AND SOLD BY
J. CATNACH, 2, MONMOUTH COURT, 7, DIALS,
WHERE MAY BE HAD THE FOLLOWING SHEETS, WITH CUTS.

The Last Day, Our Saviour's Letter, The Son of Righteousness, Travels of the Children of Israel, Glory of Solomon, The Morning Star, The Noble Army of Martyrs, Christmas Gambols, The Hertfordshire Tragedy, and a Variety of Others are in a state of forwardness for the Press.

"Looking at these Christmas broad-sheets," says the writer of an article on street-ballads, in the "National Review," for October, 1861, "it would really seem as if the poorest of our brethren claimed their right to higher nourishment than common for their minds and souls, as well as for their bodies, at the time of year when all Christendom should rejoice. And this first impression is confirmed when we examine their contents. In all those which we have seen, the only piece familiar to us is that noble old carol 'While shepherds watched their flocks by night,' where the rest come from, we cannot even conjecture; but in the whole of them there is not one which we should wish were not there. We have been unable to detect in them even a coarse expression; and of the hateful narrowness and intolerance, the namby-pamby, the meaningless cant, the undue familiarity with holy things, which makes us turn with a shudder from so many modern collections of hymns, there is simply nothing.

"Account for it how we will, there is the simple fact. Perhaps it may lead us to think somewhat differently of those whom we are in the habit of setting down in the mass as little better than heathens. We cannot conclude this article better than by giving an extract or two from these Christmas broad-sheets."

"The Saviour's Garland, a choice Collection of the most esteemed Carols," has the usual long narrative ballad, which begins:

"Come, all you faithful Christians
That dwell upon the earth,--
Come celebrate the morning
Of our dear Saviour's birth:
This is the happy morning,--
This is the happy morn
Whereon, to save our ruined race,
The Son of God was born."

And after telling simply the well-known story, it ends:

"Now to him up ascended,
Then let your praises be,
That we His steps may follow,
And He our pattern be;
That when our lives are ended
We may hear His blessed call:
'Come, Souls, receive the Kingdom
Prepared for you all.'"

Another, "The Star of Bethlehem, a collection of esteemed Carols for the present year," opens its narrative thus:

"Let all that are to mirth inclined
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done,
In sending His beloved Son.

Let all our songs and praises be
Unto His heavenly Majesty;
And evermore amongst our mirth
Remember Christ our Saviour's birth.

The twenty-fifth day of December
We have great reason to remember;
In Bethlehem, upon that morn,
There was a blessed Saviour born," &c.

One of the short pieces, by no means the best, we give whole:

"With one consent let all the earth
The praise of God proclaim,
Who sent the Saviour, by whose birth
To man salvation came.

All nations join and magnify
The great and wondrous love
Of Him who left for us the sky,
And all the joys above.

But vainly thus in hymns of praise
We bear a joyful part,
If while our voices loud we raise,
We lift not up our heart.

We, by a holy life alone,
Our Saviour's laws fulfil;
By those His glory is best shown
Who best perform His will.

May we to all His words attend
With humble, pious care;
Then shall our praise to heaven ascend,
And find acceptance there."

We do not suppose that the contents of these Christmas broad-sheets are supplied by the same persons who write the murder-ballads, or the attacks on crinoline. They may be borrowed from well known hymn books for anything we know. But if they are borrowed, we must still think it much to the credit of the selectors, that, where they might have found so much that is objectionable and offensive, they should have chosen as they have done. We only hope that their successors, whoever they may be who will become the caterers for their audiences, will set nothing worse before them.

Christmas broad-sheets formed an important item in the office of the "Catnach Press," as the sale was enormous, and Catnach always looked forward for a large return of capital, and a "good clearance" immediately following the spurt for Guy Fawkes' speeches, in October of each year. But although the sale was very large, it only occupies one "short month." This enabled them to make Carols a stock job, so that when trade in the Ballad, Sensational, "Gallows," or any other line of business was dull, they used to fill up every spare hour in the working off or colouring them, so as to be ready to meet the extraordinary demand which was sure to be made at the fall of the year.

Like most of the old English customs, Christmas-carol singing is fast dying out. Old peripatetic stationers well remember the rich harvest they once obtained at Christmas times by carol selling. Now there are very few who care to invest more than a shilling or two at a time on the venture; whereas in times long past, all available capital was readily embarked in the highly-coloured and plain sheets of the birth of our Saviour, with the carol of "Christians awake," or "The Seven Good Joys of Mary:"--

"The first good joy our Mary had,
It was the joy of one,
To see her own Son, Jesus,
To suck at her breast-bone.
To suck at her breast-bone, God-man,
And blessed may He be
Both Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
To all eternity."

Now, whether carol singing has degenerated with carol poetry, and consequently the sale of Christmas carols diminished is a question we need not enter upon; but when we turn to the fine old carols of our forefathers, we cannot help regretting that many of these are buried in the records of the long past.

Here are a couple of verses of one, said to be the first carol or drinking-song composed in England. The original is in Anglo-Norman French:--

"Lordlings, from a distant home,
To seek old Christmas are we come,
Who loves our minstrelsy--
And here unless report mis-say,
The greybeard dwells; and on this day
Keeps yearly wassail, ever gay
With festive mirth and glee.

* * * * *

Lordlings, it is our host's command,
And Christmas joins him hand in hand,
To drain the brimming bowl;
And I'll be foremost to obey,
Then pledge we, sirs, and drink away,
For Christmas revels here to day,
And sways without control.

Now _wassail_ to you all! and merry may you be,
And foul that wight befall, who drinks not health to me."

One can well imagine the hearty feeling which would greet a party of minstrels carolling out such a song as the above in Christmas days of yore; and then contrast the picture with a _troupe_ from St. Giles's or Whitechapel bawling out "God Rest you Merry Gentlemen!" The very thought of the contrast sends a shudder through the whole human system; and no wonder the first were received with welcome feasting, and the latter driven "with more kicks than half-pence" from the doors.

In an old book of "Christmasse Carolles newely emprinted at London, in the fletestrete at the sygne of the Sonne by Wynkyn de Worde. The yere of our Lorde, m.d.xxi. Quarto." Is a carol on "Bryngyng in the Bore's Head":--

"The bore's head in hand bring I,
With garlandes gay and rosemary,
I pray you all synge merely,
_Qui estis in convivio_.

The bore's head, I understande
Is the chiefe servyce in this lande,
Loke wherever it be fande,
_Servite cum Contico_.

Be gladde, lordes, both more and lasse,
For this hath ordayned our stewarde,
To chere you all this Christmasse
The bore's head with mustarde."

With certain alterations, this carol is still, or at least was very recently, retained at Queen's College, Oxford, and sung to a cathedral chant of the psalms.

It would occupy too much space to search into the origin of Christmas carols. They are doubtless coeval with the original celebrations of Christmas, first as a strictly Romish sacred ceremony, and afterwards as one of joyous festivity.

This "Moral-Sheet" entitled "THE STAGES OF LIFE: or, The various Ages and Degrees of Human Life explained by these Twelve different Stages, from our Birth to our Graves," had a great sale.

INFANCY

_To 10 Years old._

"His vain delusive thoughts are fill'd
With vain delusive joys--
The empty bubble of a dream,
Which waking change to toys."

_From 10 to 20 Years old._

"His heart is now puff'd up,
He scorns the tutor's hand;
He hates to meet the least control
And glories to command."

_From 20 to 30 Years old._

"There's naught here that can withstand
The rage of his desire,
His wanton flames are now blown up,
His mind is all on fire."

_From 30 to 40 Years old._

"Look forward and repent
Of all thy errors past,
That so thereby thou may'st attain
True happiness at last."

_From 40 to 50 Years old._

"At fifty years he is
Like the declining sun,
For now his better half of life,
Man seemeth to have run."

_From 50 to 60 Years old._

"His wasted taper now
Begins to lose its light,
His sparkling flames doth plainly show
'Tis growing towards night."

_From 60 to 70 Years old._

"Perplex'd with slavish fear
And unavailing woe,
He travels on life's rugged way
With locks as white as snow."

_From 70 to 80 Years old._

"Infirmity is great,
At this advanced age,
And ceaseless grief and weakness leagued,
Now vent their bitter rage."

_From 80 to 90 Years old._

"Life's 'Vital Spark'--the soul,
Is hovering on the verge
Of an eternal world above,
And waiting to emerge."

_From 90 to 100 Years old._

"The sun is sinking fast
Behind the clouds of earth,
Oh may it shine with brighter beams,
Where light receiv'd her birth."

Printed by
J. CATNACH,
***2,***
_Monmouth-Court, 7 Dials_,
LONDON.]

Catnach was now at the height of his fame as a printer of ballads, Christmas-pieces, carols, lotteries, execution papers, dying speeches, catchpennies, primers and battledores, and his stock of type and woodcuts had very considerably increased to meet his business demands. And it may be said that he was the very Napoleon of buyers at sales by auction of "printers' stock." On one occasion, when lot after lot was being knocked down to him, one of the "Littlejohn crew" of "knock-out-men" of the period, observed to the auctioneer, "Why, sir, Mr. Catnach is buying up all the lots." "Yes," replied the auctioneer, "And what's more, Mr. Catnach will pay for them and clear away all his lots in the morning;" then adding somewhat pointedly, "which is a thing I can't say of all parties who attend my sales."

But although we are informed, _vivâ voce_ of a contemporary, that Jemmy Catnach was so large a buyer at sales by auction of "printers' stock," we may, with some degree of safety, come to the conclusion that he could have only bought such lots that would be considered by other master printers as worthless, and that it was the apparent cheapness that would be the incentive for his buying up all the worn-out and battered letter, for Jemmy was a man who hated "innowations" as he used to call improvements, and he, therefore, had a great horror in laying out his money in new and improved manufactured type, because, as he observed, he kept so many standing forms, and when certain sorts ran short he was not particular, and would tell the boys to use anything which would make a good shift. For instance, he never considered a compositor could be aground for a lowercase "l" while he had a figure "1" or a cap "I" to fall back upon; by the same rule, the cap. "O" and figure "0" were synonymous with "Jemmy;" the lowercase "p," "b," "d," and "q," would all do duty for each other in _turn_, and if they could not always find Roman letters to finish a word with, why the compositor knew very well that the "reader" would not mark out Ita_lic_, nor wrong founts.

From a small beginner in the world, Catnach was soon able to see his way clear to amass a fortune. He had now established his reputation as a man of enterprise, and he was very sensitive to maintain a sort of shabby-genteel appearance. It was amusing, especially when over his glass, to hear him describe the effect the "awfuls" had on the public. The proprietor of any of our leading journals could not have felt prouder than did Catnach, as he saw drafted from his press the many thousands of varied productions.

We will now briefly allude to the wood-blocks which Catnach had in his possession, and which served for the purpose of illustrating during the time that he had been in business. He had a large collection, such as they were; but as works of art they had little or no pretension, being, upon the whole, of the oddest and most ludicrous character. Those that were intended for the small books were very quaint--as we have shown by the fac-similed specimens we have given--whilst the larger portion, which were chiefly intended for the "awfuls," were grotesque and hideous in their design and execution. No more ghastly sight could be imagined than one of Jemmy's embellishments of an execution. It would appear that for the last discharge of the law he had a large collection of blocks which would suit any number of victims who were about to undergo the dread penalty. It mattered little how many Jack Ketch was going to operate upon, wood-blocks to the exact number were always adopted, in this particular the great "Dying Speech Merchant" would seem to have thought that his honour and reputation were at stake, for he had his network so formed as to be able to secure every information of news that was passing between the friends of the culprits and the prerogative of the Crown. But we are informed that upon one occasion he was nearly entrapped. Three victims were upon the eve of being executed, and in those days--and in later times--it was not an uncommon thing to see the confession and dying speech printed one or two days previous to the event. This we are told by those in the trade was almost necessary, in order that the sheets might be ready for the provinces almost as soon as the sentence of the law had been carried out. It so happened that on the night previous to an execution, one of the culprits was reprieved. It was solely by a piece of good luck that Catnach heard of it. Several sheets had been struck off; and Jemmy was often chaffed about hanging three men instead of two; but our informant assures us that the error was corrected before any of the impressions were dispatched from the office. Had they gone before the public in their original state, the _locus standi_ of the great publisher in Monmouth Court would have been greatly imperilled. To those who are fond of the fine arts, _in usum vulgi_, Catnach's embellishments will afford a fund of amusement. Amongst the lot were several well known places, the scenes of horrible and awful crimes, engravings of debauchery and ill-fame, together with an endless number of different kinds, suitable at the shortest possible notice, to illustrate every conceivable and inconceivable subject.

The Seven Dials in general, and "The Catnach Press" in particular, had no dread of copyright law--the principal Librarian of the British Museum, Stationers', or any other Hall in those days--and as wood engravings were not to be had then so quickly or cheaply as now-a-days, Jemmy used at times to be his own engraver, and while the compositors were setting up the types, he would carve out the illustration on the back of an old pewter music plate, and by nailing it on to a piece of wood make it into an improvised stereo-plate off-hand, for he was very handy at this sort of work, at which also his sister, with his instruction, could assist; so they soon managed to rough out a figure or two, and when things were dull and slack they generally got one or two subjects ready in stock, such as a highwayman with crape over his face, shooting a traveller, who is falling from his horse near a wide-spreading old elm tree, through which the moon was to be seen peeping; not forgetting to put the highwayman in top boots and making him a regular dandy. This was something after the plan of the artists of the cheap illustrated papers of the present day, who generally anticipate events sometime beforehand to be ready with their blocks. As a proof of this, the editor of the "London, Provincial, and Colonial Press News," says "I happened to call one day on an artist for the 'Illustrated Press,' and found him busily engaged in sketching a funeral procession with some twenty coffins borne on the shoulders of men who were winding their way through an immense crowd. Upon inquiry, I was told that it was intended for the next week's issue, and was to represent the funeral of the victims of the late dreadful colliery explosion, for although the inquest was only then sitting, and all the bodies had not yet been found, there was sure to be a funeral of that kind when it was all over, and as they did not know how many bodies were to be buried at one time, it was very cleverly arranged to commence the procession from the _corner of the block_, and so leave it to the imagination as to how many more coffins were coming in the rear; something after the plan of a small country theatre, when representing Richard the Third, and in the battle scene, after the first two or three of the army had made their appearance, to cry 'halt!' very loudly to all those behind who were not seen, and leave the spectators to guess how many hundreds their were to come."

For the illustrating of catchpennies, broadsides, and street-literature in general, particular kinds of wood-cuts were required. In most cases one block was called upon to perform many parts; and the majority of metropolitan printers, who went in for this work, had only a very limited number of them. Very often the same cuts were repeated over and over again, and made to change sides as one another, and that simply to make a little variation from a ballad or broadside that had been printed at the same office on the day, week, or month previous. It mattered little what the subject was, it required some adornment, in the shape of illustration, to give effect to it. The catchpennies, especially those connected with the awful, were in general very rough productions. A lover strangling his sweetheart with a long piece of rope. A heartless woman murdering an innocent man. Vice punished and virtue rewarded, and similar subjects, were always handled in such a manner as to create a degree of excitement, sympathy, and alarm. The broadsides, generally adorned with some rough outline of the royal arms of England, a crowned king or queen, as the subject might be, received their full share of consideration at the hands of the artist. Scions of royal blood, and those connected with the court, were often painted in colours glaring and attractive, whilst the matter set forth in the letterpress was not always the most flattering or encouraging.

CATCH-PENNY:--Any temporary contrivance to obtain money from the
public; penny shows, or cheap exhibitions. Also descriptions of
murders, fires, and terrible accidents, &c., which have never taken
place.

Hotton's: _Slang Dictionary_.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE DREADFUL APPARITION

That appeared last night to Henry ---- in this street, of
Mary ----, the shopkeeper's daughter round the corner, in a
shroud, all covered in white.

The castle clock struck one--the night was dark, drear, and tempestuous.--Henry sat in an antique chamber of it, over a wood fire, which in the stupor of contemplation, he had suffered to decrease into a few lifeless embers; on the table by him lay the portrait of Mary--the features of which were not very perfectly disclosed by a taper, that just glimmered in the socket. He took up the portrait, however, and gazing intensely upon it, till the taper, suddenly burning brighter, discovered to him a phenomenon he was not less terrified than surprised at.--The eyes of the portrait moved;--the features from an angelic smile, changed to a look of solemn sadness; a tear stole down each cheek, and the bosom palpitated as with sighing.