ntertainment. From out of the fund provided, there were prizes given
for running in sacks, and climbing the greasy pole for a leg of mutton
fixed at the top, and a prize for running along a greased pole placed
horizontally from the stem of a coal barge, and extending over the water
some twenty feet. On a barge moored opposite the end of the pole were
four spars radiating with a basket at the end of each from a capstan that
revolved, containing a prize, and just within reach of the end of the
greased pole. One was usually a small live pig, others a fat goose or a
live duck with its wings cut. The "running the pole" was most difficult,
for as soon as you got near the prize at the end of the pole it would be
dipped by the weight and slip you off into the water; while if you got to
the end of the pole and touched the basket as it revolved it would fly
away from you. The live prize was the most difficult to contend with,
for you had to fight with it to get it on shore. The proceedings all
finished up with a grand display of fireworks. On the following day the
boat decked with flags, in a van, would be drawn round the principal
streets with the watermen who had been engaged in the contest, singing
some doggerel verses composed for the occasion, and thanking the people
for their liberal subscriptions.

CHAPTER 4.--Chelsea Notabilities.

There were some notable people living in Cheyne Walk in those days. At
number three lived Mr. Goss, organist at St. Luke's, afterwards at St.
Paul's Cathedral, who was subsequently knighted. At number five lived
Justice Neild, an eccentric old bachelor, who left half a million of
money to the Queen, and next door lived Doctor Butler, curator of the
British Museum, and at Gothic House lived Mr. Moore, a man seven feet
high, and stout in proportion, dressed in a long drab coat, breeches and
Hessian boots with large tassels. He had been a contractor for the
stores and accoutrements for Wellington's army in the Peninsular
campaign. A constant visitor was the Countess of Harrington, in a
splendid carriage with two tall footmen behind in a quaint brown livery
trimmed with gold lace, breeches and silk stockings. Then there were the
Owens and the Bayfords, very charitable people. Then there was "Don
Saltero's" tavern, kept by a tall Scotchman and his factotum, a little
short fat man, a sort of "Joe Willett of the Maypole," who was barman,
cellarman, and waiter in one. There used t