ed freely, some of
our party proposed a visit to the theatre, but as Bath theatricals could
not be expected to afford much amusement to London frequenters of the
theatres royal, Transit suggested our sallying forth for a spree;"
for," said he, "I have not yet booked a bit of true life since I
have been in Bath. The pump-room, the bathers, and the swells in
Milsom-street, are all very well for the lovers of elegant life; but
our sporting friends and old college chums will expect to see a genuine
touch or two of the broad humour of Bath--something suburban and funny.
Cannot you introduce us to any thing pleasant of this sort!" said
Transit, addressing Blackstrap: "perhaps give us a sight of the
interior of a snug convent, or show us where the Bath wonderfuls resort
to carouse and sing away their cares."--"It is some years since," said
Blackstrap, "that in the company of a few merry wags, I paid a visit to
the Buff-club in Avon-street: but as you, gentlemen, appear disposed for
a little fun, if you will pledge yourselves to be directed by me, I will
undertake to introduce you to a scene far exceeding in profligacy and
dissipation the most florid picture which our friend Transit has
yet furnished of the back settlements in the Holy-land." With this
understanding, and with no little degree of anticipatory pleasure, did
our merry group set forth to take a survey of the interior of the long
room at the Pig and Whistle in Avon-street. Of the origin of this sign,
Blackstrap gave us a very humorous anecdote: the house was formerly,
it would appear, known by the sign of the Crown and Thistle, and was at
that time the resort of the Irish Traders who visited Bath to dispose
of their linens. One of these Emeralders ~332~~having lost his way, and
being unable to recollect either the name of the street or the sign of
his inn, thus addressed a countryman whom he accidentally met: "Sure
I've quite forgotten the sign of my inn." "Be after mentioning something
like it, my jewel," said his friend. "Sure it's very like the Pig and
Whistle," replied the enquirer. "By the powers, so it is:--the Crown
and Thistle, you mean;" and from this mistake of the Emeralder, the
house has ever since been so designated. Upon our visit to this scene of
uproarious mirth, we found it frequented by the lowest and most depraved
characters in society; the mendicants, and miserable of the female sex,
who, lost to every sense of shame or decency, assemble here to in