MR. PIPS HIS DIARY.
A Cydere Cellare Dvrvng a Comyck Sonce.
[Saturday, March 10, 1849.]
TO Drury Lane this Evening, to ſee the Horſemanſhip, which did divert me mightily; but had rather it had been at Aſtley's. After that, to Supper at the Cider Cellars in Maiden Lane, wherein was much Company, great and ſmall, and did call for Kidneys and Stout, then a ſmall Glaſs of Aqua-Vitæ and Water, and thereto a Cigar. While we ſupped, the Singers did entertain us with Glees and comical Ditties; but Lack, to hear with how little Wit the young Sparks about Town are tickled! But the Thing that did moll take me was to ſee and hear one Ross ſing the Song of Sam Hall the Chimney-Sweep, going to be hanged: for he had begrimed his Muzzle to look unſhaven, and in rutty black Clothes, with a battered old Hat on his Crown and a ſhort Pipe in his Mouth, did ſit upon the Platform, leaning over the Back of a Chair: ſo making believe that he was on his Way to Tyburn. And then he did ſing to a diſmal Pſalm-Tune, how that his Name was Sam Hall, and that he had been a great Thief, and was now about to pay for all with his Life; and thereupon he ſwore an Oath, which did make me ſomewhat ſhiver, though divers laughed at it. Then, in ſo many Verſes, how his Maſter had badly taught him and now he muſt hang for it; how he should ride up Holborn Hill in a Cart, and the Sheriffſ would come and preach to him, and after them would come the Hangman; and at
