his
appearance at all times are truly pleasing. Hail, rain, or
shine, he may be seen abroad without coat or hat; his hair
powdered, his shirt sleeves turned up to his elbows, and a
steel hanging on his apron-string. Originally he carried a
tin case, something like a Dutch oven, in which he
constantly kept a lire, but is now generally seen with a
small tray. In serving a customer, he never touches his
pudding with his hands, but has a knife for the purpose of
presenting it to the purchasers, and his sale is so
extensive, that he is obliged to replenish several times in
a day; and in order to secure a regular and ready supply,
his female partner and himself convey a quantity of pudding
to a certain distance, and deposit their load at some
public-house, where she takes care to keep it "all hot,"
while Egland scours the neighbourhood in search of
customers. The first cargo being disposed of he returns for
more, and by this method he has it always fresh, and is
never in want of goods.
Many laughable anecdotes are told of this flying pieman, and
perhaps a day's excursion in following him during his
peregrinations would furnish much of curious and interesting
amusement. We shall however select one, authenticated by his
appearance at Marlborough Street Police Office on Monday,
July 8, 1821, as most intimately connected with Real Life in
London; when he preferred a serious charge against a Beggar,
no other than the president of a smoking club in the Holy
Land, and others, for stealing his mutton pies, cutting off
his tail, and otherwise disfiguring his person. By the
evidence of Egland, it appeared that he was introduced, with
his goods for sale, to a company chiefly consisting of
street beggars in St. Giles's, the chair at that moment
being filled by a beggar without hands, well known in the
vicinity of the Admiralty as a chalker of the pavement. The
dignity of the chair was well sustained by this ingenious
colourer, who was smoking a pipe as great as an alderman
over a bason of turtle soup; but no sooner did Egland make
his appearance, than the company seized upon his goods and
crammed them down their throats, in spite of the repeated
vociferations of "honour, honour, Gentlemen," from the
assailed. Resistance was vain, and E
|