e unloading: when the
Hackney Coachmen of the foregoing Night took their leave of each other
at the _Dark-House_, to go to Bed before the Day was too far spent,
Chimney-Sweepers pass'd by us as we made up to the Market, and some
Raillery happened between one of the Fruit Wenches and those black Men,
about the Devil and _Eve_, with Allusion to their several Professions. I
could not believe any Place more entertaining than _Covent-Garden_;
where I strolled from one Fruit-Shop to another, with Crowds of
agreeable young Women around me, who were purchasing Fruit for their
respective Families. It was almost eight of the Clock before I could
leave that Variety of Objects. I took Coach and followed a Young Lady,
who tripped into another just before me, attended by her Maid. I saw
immediately she was of the Family of the _Vainloves_. There are a set of
these who of all Things affect the Play of _Blindman's-Buff_, and
leading Men into Love for they know not whom, who are fled they know not
where. This sort of Woman is usually a janty Slattern; she hangs on her
Cloaths, plays her Head, varies her Posture, and changes Place
incessantly, and all with an Appearance of striving at the same time to
hide her self, and yet give you to understand she is in Humour to laugh
at you. You must have often seen the Coachmen make Signs with their
Fingers as they drive by each other, to intimate how much they have got
that Day. They can carry on that Language to give Intelligence where
they are driving. In an Instant my Coachman took the Wink to pursue, and
the Lady's Driver gave the Hint that he was going through _Long-Acre_
towards St. _James's_: While he whipped up _James-Street_, we drove for
_King-Street_, to save the Pass at St. _Martin's-Lane_. The Coachmen
took care to meet, jostle, and threaten each other for Way, and be
entangled at the End of _Newport-Street_ and _Long-Acre_. The Fright,
you must believe, brought down the Lady's Coach Door, and obliged her,
with her Mask off, to enquire into the Bustle, when she sees the Man she
would avoid. The Tackle of the Coach-Window is so bad she cannot draw it
up again, and she drives on sometimes wholly discovered, and sometimes
half escaped, according to the Accident of Carriages in her Way. One of
these Ladies keeps her Seat in a Hackney-Coach, as well as the best
Rider does on a managed Horse. The laced Shooe of her left Foot, with a
careless Gesture, just appearing on the opposite Cushion, he