Chapter 7

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboardTo get the poor dog a bone;But when she came there the cupboard was bare,And so the poor dog had none.

London:Printed byJ. Catnach, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

She went to the baker’s to buy him some bread,When she came back the dog was dead.Ah! my poor dog, she cried, oh, what shall I do?You were always my pride—none equal to you.

She went to the undertaker’s to buy him a coffin,When she came back, the dog was laughing.Now how this can be quite puzzles my brain,I am much pleased to see you alive once again.

She went to the barber’s to buy him a wig,When she came back he was dancing a jig.O, you dear merry grig, how nicely you’re prancing;Then she held up the wig, and he began dancing.

She went to the sempstress to buy him some linen,When she came back the dog was spinning.The reel, when ’twas done, was wove into a shirt,Which served to protect him from weather and dirt.

To market she went, to buy him some tripe,When she came back he was smoking his pipe.Why, sure, cried the dame, you’d beat the great Jocko.Who before ever saw a dog smoking tobacco?

She went to the alehouse to buy him some beer,When she came back he sat on a chair.Drink hearty, said Dame, there’s nothing to pay,’Twill banish your sorrow and moisten your clay.

She went to the fruiterer’s to buy him some fruit,When she came back he was playing the flute.Oh, you musical dog, you surely can speak:Come, sing me a song, then he set up a squeak.

She went to the tavern for white wine and red,When she came back he stood on his head.This is odd, said the dame, for fun you seem bred,One would almost believe you’d wine in your head.

The dog he cut capers, and turned out his toes,’Twill soon cure the vapours, he such attitude shows.The dame made a curtsey, the dog made a bow,The dame said, Your servant, the dog said Bow wow.

THE Royal Book. OF Nursery Rhymes.

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NURSERY RHYMES.

See-saw, sacradown,Which is the way to London town?One foot up, and the other down,And that is the way to London town.

Hey diddle, the cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon.The little dog laughed to see the sport,And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Ding, dong, bell!Pussy’s in the well.Who put her in?Little Johnny Green.Who pulled her out?Little Johnny Snout,What a naughty boy was that,To drown poor pussy cat,Who never did him any harm,And kill’d the mice in his father’s barn.

Jack and Jill went up the hill,To get a pail of water:Jack fell down and broke his crown,And Jill came tumbling after.

Cock a doodle do,The dame has lost her shoe,And master’s lost his fiddle stickAnd don’t know what to do.

Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair!Says Simple Simon to the pieman,Let me taste your ware.

Says the pieman unto SimonFirst give me a penny;Says Simple Simon to the pieman,I have not got any.Once Simon made a great snow ballAnd brought it in to roast,He laid it down before the fire,And soon the ball was lost.

He went to ride a spotted cow,That had a little calf,She threw him down upon the groundAnd made all the people laugh.Now Simple Simon went a fishing,For to catch a whale,But all the water he had gotWas in his mother’s pail.

He went to catch a dickey birdAnd thought he could not failBecause he had a bit of salt,To put upon his tail.He went to see if cherries ripe,Did grow upon a thistle,He pricked his finger very much,Which made poor Simon whistle.

He went to take a bird’s nest,’Twas built upon a bough,A branch gave way, down Simon fellInto a dirty slough.Simon was sent to market,To buy a joint of meat,He tied it to his horse’s tail,To keep it clean and sweet.

He went to slide upon the ice,Before the ice would bear,Then he plunged in above his knees,Which made poor Simon stare.He went to shoot a wild duck,But the duck flew away,Says Simon I can’t hit him,Because he would not stay.

Then Simple Simon went a hunting,For to catch a hare,He rode an ass about the street,But could not find one there.He went for water in a seive,But soon it all run through,And went all o’er his clothes,Which made poor Simon rue.

He washed himself with blacking ball,Because he had no soap,And then said to his motherI’m a beauty now I hope.He went to eat some honey,Out of the mustard pot,It bit his tongue until he cried,That was all the good he got.

Simple Simon cutting hismother’s bellows open tosee where the wind lay.

JACK JINGLE.

Little Jack Jingle,Played truant at school,They made his bum tingleFor being a fool;He promised no moreLike a fool he would lookBut be a good boy and attend to his book.

See little Jack JingleLearning his task,He’s a very good boy,If the neighbours should ask,To school he does run,And no truant does play,But when school is done,He can laugh and be gay.

Here sulky Sue,What shall we do.Turn her face to the wall,Till she comes to;If that should fail,A touch with the caneWill do her good,When she feels the pain.

Now Suky never pouts,Never frowns, never flouts,But reads her book with glee,Then dances merrily,No girl so good as she,In all the country;Cheerfully doth all things do,She lost the name of sulky Sue.

Jack Jingle went ’prentice,To make a horse-shoe,He wasted the iron,Till it would not do,His master came in,And began for to rail;Says Jack, the shoe’s spoil’d,But ’twill still make a nail.

Little Jack Jingle,Went to court Suky Shingle,Says he, shall we mingleOur toes in the bed;Fye! Jacky Jingle,Says little Suke Shingle,We must try to mingle,Our pence for some bread.

Suke Shingle when young,Did what others have done,She could dirty two clouts,While her mother wash’d one.But now grown a stout wench,With her pail and her mop,If she don’t clean the board,She can make a great slop.

Suky you shall be my wife,And I’ll tell you why;I have got a little pig,And you have got a sty;I have got a dun cow,And you can make good cheese,Suky will you have me?Say yes, if you please.

DEATH & BURIAL OF COCK ROBIN.

Who kill’d Cock Robin?I said the sparrow,With my bow and arrow.I kill’d Cock Robin.Who caught his blood?I, said the fish,With my little dish—I caught his blood.

This is the fishThat held the dish.Who saw him die?I, said the flyWith my little eye—I saw him die.

This is the flyThat saw him die.Who made his shroud?I, said the beetle,With my little needle—I made his shroud.

This is the beetle,With his little needle.Who’ll be the Parson?I, said the rook,With my little book—I will be the Parson.

Here is Parson Rook,Reading his book.Who’ll carry the coffin?I, said the Kite,If it’s not in the night—I’ll carry the coffin.

Behold the Kite,How he takes his flight.Who’ll be the clerk?I, said the Lark,If its not in the dark—I will be the clerk.

Behold how the Lark,Says Amen like a clerk.Who will carry the link?I, said the linnet:I’ll fetch it in a minute—I will carry the link.

The Linnet with a light,Altho’ it is not night.

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD.

And now her riding hood is on,How pretty she does look;Mammamade it to keep her warmBecause she learn’d her book;So be good girls all who hear thisAnd boys be good also,And yourMammaswill give you allGreat coats and hoods, I know.

You see this pot of butter nice,And likewise this plum-cake,Which littleBiddy’sdearmammaForgrandmammadid make:Who lived in a little house,A mile or two away,AndRed Riding Hoodmust take them,ToGrandmammanext day

The morning come—the hood put on,The pot and cake she took,Biddy, good bye—good bye,mammaAnd then her hand she shook:And so set off forgrandmamma’sMammastood at the door,And watched her littleBiddytillShe could see her no more.

Now in the road tograndma’shouse,A lonesome wood there lay,AndGoffip Wolfpopp’d from a bush,And stopp’d her in the wayHe was a fierce and cruel beast,And would have eat her there,But turning of his head about,He found he did not dare.

I’m going to mygrandmamma’s,She is not very well,With cake and pot of butter;SaysWolfwhere does she dwell?In yonder house, by yonder millGood bye—I cannot stay—And with her pretty finger, shePointed out the way.

TheWolfgot first to grandma’s door,And knocked toc, toc, toc;Who is that, saidgrandmamma,That at the door doth knock;’Tis yourgrandaughter, said theWolfAnd mimic’d Biddy’s voice,Mammahas sent you a plumb cake,And pot of butter nice.

Nowgrandmammabeing very ill,She on the bed did lie,And called out, the bobbin pull,And up the latch will fly;The bobbin pull’d, up flew the latch,TheWolfpopp’d in his headAnd soon he eat upgrandmammaAnd then got into bed.

Toc, toc, toc, atgrandma’sdoorKnockedLittle Red Riding Hood,Who’s there, saysWolf, and with a voice,Likegrandma’sas he could;’Tis yourgrandaughter, littleBidWith cake and pot of butter;The bobbin pull, the latch will fly,The wickedWolfdid mutter.

CINDERELLA.

Here Cinderella you may seeA beauty bright and fair,Her real name was Helena,Few with her could compareBesides she was so very good,So affable and mild,She learned to pray and read her book,Like a very good child.

Her mother-in-law you see,One of the worst of hags,Who made her do all drudgery work.And clothed her in rags;And after she had done her work,Her mother-in-law would tell herThe cinders she might sit among,Then call’d her Cinderella.

These are her two sisters-in-law,Both deformed & ordinary,Altho’ they dress as fine as queens,Which you may think extraordinary;But neither of them scarce can read,Nor pray to God to bless’emThey only know to patch and paint,And gaudily to dress’em,

This is the king’s fine gallant son,Young, handsome, straight and tallHe invited all the ladies roundFor to dance at his ball;Which when the ugly sisters heardThey dress’d themselves so fine,And off they set, being resolv’dAt this grand ball to shine.

Her god-mother came to lend her aid,And her power is not smallTo help her god-daughter to goTo this fine prince’s ball.This coach was once a pumpkin,By the fairy changed from that,The footmen once were lizards green,The coachman once a rat.

Now having danced with the prince,He led her to her place,While all the ladies at the ballEnvied her handsome face;Behold the clock now striking twelve,Out Cinderella run,And happily got out of doorJust as the clock had done.

But in her haste to get away,One of her slippers fell,Which the young prince himself pick’d up,And it pleased him so well,That straight he offer’d a reward,It was ten thousand pound,To any person that could tellWhere the owner could be found.

And now the sisters tried in vainThe slipper to get on;Said Cinderella, let me try,Dear sisters, when you’ve done;She tried, and on it went with easeTo the foot of Cinderella,Said She, I think the slipper’s mine,See here I’ve got the fellow.

THE CHILD’S NEW YEAR’S GIFT.

A pair of Spectacles.

Without a bridle or a saddle,Across a thing I ride and straddle.And those I ride by help of me,Tho’ almost blind are made to see.

A pair of Stays.

My legs I can venture,To say within bound,Are twelve, if not more,Tho’ they ne’er touch the ground;If you search for my eyes,More than thirty you’ll findAnd strange to be toldThey are always behind.

A Pin.

And tho’ I’m a brazen-fac’d sharper at best,No lady without my aid can be drest,When I’m wanted, I’m dragg’d by the head to my dutyAnd am doomed to be slave to the dress of a beauty.

A letter M.

I’m found in most countries,Yet not in earth or sea,I am in all timber,Yet not in any tree,I am in all metals,Yet, as I am told,I am not in iron, lead,Brass, silver, nor gold.

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THE GOOD CHILD’S ILLUSTRATED ALPHABET OR FIRST BOOK. London: Published by RYLE & PAUL, 2 & 3, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

Was an Archer,Who shot at a frog.

Was a Butcher,And kept a great dog.

Was a Captain,All covered with lace.

Was a DrunkardAnd had a red face.

Was an Esquire,With insolent brow.

Was a Farmer, AndFollowed the plough.

Was a Gamester,Who had but ill-luck.

Was a Huntsman,And hunted a buck.

Was an Inn-keeper,Who loved to bouse.

Was a Joiner,And built up a house.

Was King William,Once governed this land.

Was a Lady, whoHad a white hand.

Was a Miser,And hoarded up gold.

Was a Nobleman,Gallant and bold.

Was an Oyster-wench,And went about town.

Was a Parson, andWore a black gown.

Was a Queen,Who was fond of flip.

Was a Robber,And wanted a whip.

Was a Sailor,Who spent all he got.

Was a Tinker,And mended a pot.

Was a Usurer,A miserly elf.

Was a Vinter, whoDrank all himself.

Was a Watchman,And guarded the door.

Was Expensive,And so became poor.

Was a Youth,Who did not love school.

Was a Zany,A silly old fool.

THE ALPHABET.

The Letters promiscuously arranged.

D B C F G E H A X U Y M VW N K P J O Z Q I S L T Rz w x o c l y b b f p s m q n v hk r t g e j a u i

Double and Triple Letters.

ﬁ ﬂ ff ffi fflf i f l f f f f f i f l

Diphthongs, &c.

AE Œ æ œ & &c.Æ OE ae oe andet cætera

Arabic Numerals.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

Roman Numerals.

I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX.X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV.

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF DICK TURPIN. London: W. S. FORTEY, PRINTER & PUBLISHER, MONMOUTH COURT, BLOOMSBURY, W.C.

THELIFE AND ADVENTURESOFDICK TURPIN.

RICHARD TURPIN was born at Hempstead, in Essex, where his father kept the sign of the Bell; and after being the usual time at school, he was bound apprentice to a butcher in Whitechapel, but did not serve out his time, for his master discharged him for impropriety of conduct, which was not in the least diminished by his parents’ indulgence in supplying him with money, which enabled him to cut a figure round the town, among the blades of the road and the turf, whose company he usually kept.

His friends, thinking that marriage would reclaim him, persuaded him to marry, which he did with one Hester Palmer, of East Ham in Essex, but he had not long been married before he became acquainted with a gang of thieves, whose depredations terrified the whole county of Essex, and the neighbourhood of London. He joined sheep stealing to foot-pad robbery; and was at last obliged to fly from his place of residence for stealing a young heifer, which he killed and cut up for sale.

Soon after, he stole two oxen from one Farmer Giles, of Plaistow, and drove them to a Butcher’s slaughtering house, near Waltham Abbey.

He was followed there, but made his escape out of the window of the house where he was, just as they were entering the door.

He now retreated into the Hundreds of Essex, where he found more security: he adopted a new scheme; and that was to rob the smugglers, but he took care not to attack a gang, only solitary travellers, this he did with a colour of justice, for he pretended to have a deputation from the Customs, and demanded their property in the king’s name.

He again joined the gang with whom he had before connected himself, the principal part of those depredations were committed upon Epping Forest, &c.

But this soon becoming an object of magisterial enquiry, he again returned to the solitude of the country, with some more of the gang, and they became notorious deer-stealers, and Turpin being a good shot, sent many a buck up to his connections in London.

DICK TURPIN.3

They next determined to commence house-breakers; and in this they were much encouraged by joining with Gregory’s gang, as it was then called, a company of desparadoes that made the Essex and adjacent roads very dangerous to travel.

Somehow or other, Turpin became acquainted with the circumstances of an old woman, that lived at Laughton, that kept a great quantity of cash by her; whereupon they agreed to rob her; and when they came to the door, Wheeler knocked and Turpin and the rest forcing their way into the house, blindfolded the eyes of the old woman and her maid, and tied the legs of her son to the bedstead, but not finding the wished-for booty, they held a consultation, as they were certain she must have a considerable sum concealed. Turpin told her he knew she had money, and it was in vain to deny it, for have it they would. The old lady persisted that she had none, but Turpin insisting she had money, he swore he would put her on the fire. She continued obstinate and endured for some time, when they took her off the grate, and robbed her of all they could find, upwards of four hundred pounds.

They next proceeded into Surrey, where Turpin and his company robbed Mr. Sheldon’s house, near Croydon Church, where they arrived about seven o’clock in the evening. They secured the coachman in the stable. His master hearing some strange voices in the yard, was proceeding to know the cause, when he was met by Turpin, who seizing hold of him compelled him to show them the way into the house, when he secured the door, and confined the rest of the family in one room, here they found but little plate and no cash. From Mr. Sheldon’s person they took eleven guineas, two of which Turpin returned him, begged pardon for what they had done, and wished him a good night.

These robberies hitherto had been carried on entirely on foot, with only the occasional assistance of a hackney coach but now they aspired to appear on horse-back, for which purpose they hired horses at the Old Leaping Bar in Holborn, from whence they set out about two o’clock in the afternoon, and arrived at the Queen’s Head, Stanmore, where they staid to regale themselves. It was by this means that Wood, the master of the horse, had so good an opportunity of observing the horses, as to remember the same again when he saw them afterwards in Bloomsbury, where they were taken. About five they went from Mr. Wood’s to Stanmore and staid from six until seven and then went together for Mr. Lawrence’s, about a mile from thence, where they got about half-past seven. On their arrival at Mr. Lawrence’s they alighted from their horses at the gate; whereupon Fielder knocked at the door, and calling out Mr. Lawrence. The man servant thinking it to be some of the neighbours, opened the door, upon which they all rushed in with pistols, and seizing Mr.

4DICK TURPIN

Lawrence and his man, threw a cloth over their faces then fell to rifling their pockets, out of which they took one guinea, and about fifteen shillings in silver, with his keys. They said they must have more, and drove Mr. Lawrence up stairs, where coming to a closet, they broke open the door, and took out from thence two guineas, ten shillings, a silver cup, 13 silver spoons, and two gold rings. They then rifled the house of all they could get, linen, table cloths, shirts, and the sheets off the bed, and trod the beds under feet, to discover if any money was concealed therein. Suspecting there was more money in the house, they then brought Mr. Lawrence down again, and threatened to cut his throat, and Fielder put a knife to it, as though he intended to do it; to make him confess what money was in the house. One of them took a chopping bill, and threatened to cut off his leg: they then broke his head with their pistols, and dragged him about by the hair of his head. Another of them took the kettle off the fire, and flung it upon him; but it did no other harm just wetting him, because the maid had just before taken out the greater part of the boiling water, and filled it again with cold. After this they dragged him about again, swearing they would “do for him” if he did not immediately inform them where the rest of the money was hid. They then proceeded to make a further search; and then withdrew; threatening to return again in half an hour, and kill every one

DICK TURPIN.5

they found loose. So saying they locked them in the parlour and threw the keys down the area.

Turpin by this robbery got but little, for out of the 26l, they took in the whole, he distributed it among them all but three guineas and six shillings and six pence.

A proclamation was issued for the apprehension of the offenders, and a pardon and 50lwas offered to any of the party who would impeach his accomplices, which however, had no effect. The white Hart in Drury-lane was their place of rendezvous. Here they planned their nightly visits, and here they divided their spoil, and spent the money they acquired.

The robbery being stated to the officers of Westminster, Turpin set off to Alton, where he met with an odd encounter, which got him the best companion he ever had, as he often declared. King, the highwayman, as he was returning from this place to London, being well dressed and mounted, Turpin seeing him have the appearance of a substantial gentleman, rode up to him, and thinking him a fair mark, bid him stand and deliver, and therewith producing his pistols, King fell a laughing at him, and said “what dog rob dog! Come, come, brother Turpin, if you don’t know me, I know you, and shall be glad of your company.” After a mutual communication of circumstances to each other, they agreed to keep company, and divide good or ill fortune as the trumps might turn up. In fact King was true to him to the last, which was for more than three years.

They met with various fortunes; but being too well known to

6DICK TURPIN.

remain long in one place, and as no house that knew them would receive them in it, they formed the resolution of making themselves a cave, covered with bevins and earth, and for that purpose pitched upon a convenient place, enclosed with a thicket, situated on the Waltham side of Epping, near the sign of the King’s Oak.

In this place Turpin lived, ate, drank, and lay, for the space of six years, during the first three of which he was enlivened by the drollery of his companion, Tom King, who was a fellow of infinite humour in telling stories, and of an unshaken resolution in attack or defence.

One day, as they were spying from their cave, they discovered a gentleman riding by, that King knew very well to be a rich merchant near Gresham College. This gentleman was in his chariot, and wife with him; his name was Bradele. King first attacked him on the Laughton road; but he being a man of great spirit, offered to make resistence, thinking there was but one; upon which King called Turpin, and bid him hold the horses’ heads. They proceeded first to take his money, which he readily parted with, but demurred a good while about his watch, being the dying bequest of his father. King was insisting to take it away, when Turpin interposed, and said, they were more gentlemen than to deprive anyone of their friend’s respect which they wore about them, and bid King desist from his demand.

On the day after this transaction they went to the Red Lion ale house, in Aldersgate street, where they had not been more than half an hour, when Turpin heard of the approach of the chief constable and his party; they mounted each their horse; but before King could get fairly seated he was seized by one of the party, and called on Dick to fire. Turpin replied, “If I do, I shall hit you.” “Fire, if you are my friend.” said King—Turpin fired, but the ill-fated ball took effect in King’s breast. Dick stood a moment in grief, but self-preservation made him urge his mare forward to elude his pursuers; it was now he resolved on a journey to York, and raising himself in his saddle, he said, “By G—, I will do it.” Encouraged by “Harkaway Bess,” she flew on.

Astonishing to relate, he reached York the same evening and was noticed playing at bowls in the bowling-green with several gentlemen there, which circumstance saved him from the hands of justice for a time. His pursuers coming up and seeing Turpin, knew him; and caused him to be taken into custody; one of them swore to him and the horse he rode on, which was the identical one he arrived upon in that city; but on being in the stable, and its rider at play, and all in the space of four-and-twenty hours, his alibi was admitted; for the magistrates of York could not believe it possible for one horse to cover the ground, being upwards of 190 miles, in so short a space.

DICK TURPIN.7

For the last two years of his life he seems to have confined his residence to the county of York, where he appears to be a little known. He often accompanied the neighbouring gentlemen in their parties of hunting and shooting; and one evening, on a return from an expedition of the latter kind, he saw one of his landlord’s cocks in the street, which he shot.

The next day Mr. Hall received a letter from Robert Appleton, Long Sutton, with this account:—that the said John Palmer had lived there about three quarters of a year, and had before that been once apprehended, and made his escape, and that they had a strong suspicion he was guilty of horse-stealing.

Another information gave notice, that he had stolen a horse from Captain Dawson, of Ferraby; his horse was that which Turpin rode on when he came to Beverley, and which he stole from off Hickinton Fen in Lincolnshire.

He wrote to his father upon being convicted, to use his interest to get him off for transportation, but his fate was at hand, his notoriety caused application to be ineffectual.

After he had been in prison five months, he was removed from Beverley to York Castle to take his trial. When on his trial his case seemed much to affect the hearers. He had two trials, upon both of which he was convicted upon the fullest evidence. After a long trial the Jury brought in their Verdict and found him Guilty.

He was carried in a cart to the place of execution, on Saturday, April, 7th, 1739. He behaved himself with amazing assurance and bowed to the spectators as he passed. It was remarkable that as he mounted the ladder, his right leg trembled, on which he stamped it down with an air, and with undaunted courage looked round about him; and after speaking near half an hour to the topman, threw himself off the ladder, and expired in about five minutes.

W. S. Fortey, Printer, Monmouth Court, Bloomsbury.

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The Long Song-Seller.

Songs and Song Literature.

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