the Birdcage walk, and
so through Palace-yard down to the stairs at the foot of where they were
driving the first piles of that great structure which is now called
Westminster Bridge. Here a Waterman agreed to take me to the Tower
stairs for a shilling, which was not above thrice his legal fare, but
yokels and simpletons are common prey in this great village of London. I
observed more than once as he rowed me down stream that we were followed
by a heavy wherry, manned by stout, smart fellows in frocks of blue
duck, who kept stroke remarkably well together, and whose coxswain eyed
me very narrowly. As we were shooting one of the narrow arches of London
Bridge--(then covered with shops and houses, with barbicans, and
traitors' heads spiked upon 'em at each end, and I have heard old people
say that many a time they have fished for perch and grayling standing on
the starlings of the Bridge)--this wherry fouled our craft, and my
waterman burst into a volley of horrible ribald abuse, till he who was
coxswain among the blue-frocked gentry spake some words to him in a low
voice, at which he touched his cap, and became quite Meek and Humble. I
caught him eyeing me, quite as narrowly as the steersman of the wherry
had done, and when I asked him what ailed him, he stuck his Tongue in
his cheek and grinned audaciously.

"Who were those rough fellows in the wherry, yonder, that fouled us?" I
asked.

"Bluebottles," says he, with another grin.

"What d'ye mean, fellow?" I continued.

"Well, fresh-water fishermen, if you like," he went on, "that bait their
hooks with salt worms. Will you please pay me my fare now, Master, since
I am a Fellow forsooth, and Murphy's Murrain to you?"

What Murphy's Murrain was--except some term of waterside sculduddrey I
did not know--but I paid the knave his shilling, whereupon he very
importunately craved another sixpence to drink my health, saying that it
might be a very long time before he saw me again. Now I happened only to
have one and fourpence left in the world, and suspecting that I had
already overpaid him, I resisted further extortion, upon which he became
more and more clamorous for money, and finding that I was as obstinate
as he, rested on his oars and declared that, burn him--with many other
execrations too unseemly to transcribe--he would not pull a stroke
further. This it seems was by no means an uncommon occurrence among the
dishonest waterside knaves of those days, and it afforded