e theatre over, they would repair to some
cloudy tavern, full of noise and smoke, and the glare of
gaslight--redolent of the fragrant fumes of tobacco, gin, and porter,
intermingled with the tempting odors of smoking kidneys, mutton-chops,
beefsteaks, oysters, stewed cheese, toasted cheese, Welsh rabbits; where
those who are chained to the desk and the counter during the day, revel
in the license of the hour, and eat, and drink, and smoke to the highest
point either of excitement or stupefaction, and enter into all the
slang of the day--of the turf, the ring, the cockpit, the theatres--and
shake their sides at comic songs. To enter one of these places when the
theatre was over, was a luxury indeed to Titmouse; figged out in his
very uttermost best, with satin stock and double breastpins; his glossy
hat cocked on one side of his head, his tight blue surtout, with the
snowy handkerchief elegantly drooping out of the breast-pocket;
straw-colored kid gloves, tight trousers, and shining boots; his ebony
silver-headed cane held carelessly under his arm! To walk into the
middle of the room with a sort of haughty ease and indifference, or
nonchalance; and after deliberately scanning, through his eye-glass,
every box, with its occupants, at length drop into a vacant nook, and
with a languid air summon the bustling waiter to receive his commands,
was ecstasy! The circumstance of his almost always accompanying Snap on
these occasions, who was held in great awe by the waiters, to whom his
professional celebrity was well known, (for there was scarce an
interesting, a dreadful, or a nasty scene at any of the police-offices,
in which Snap's name did not figure in the newspapers as "appearing on
behalf of the prisoner,") got Titmouse almost an equal share of
consideration, and aided the effect produced by his own commanding
appearance. As for Snap, whenever he was asked who his companion was, he
would whisper in a very significant tone and manner--"Devilish high
chap!" From these places they would repair, not unfrequently, to certain
other scenes of nightly London life, which, I thank God! the virtuous
reader can form no notion of, though they are, strange to say, winked
at, if not patronized by the police and magistracy, till the metropolis
is choked with them. Thus would Snap and Titmouse pleasantly pass away
their time till one, two, three, and often four o'clock in the morning;
at which hours they would, with many yawns, skulk homewa