must not be imagined, though, that wives were the only sinners, or that vice was confined to any particular and exclusive class. It was the luxury of all, and according to their opportunities all enjoyed it. About this time Fleet marriages, and the scandals consequent upon them, were in full swing. In a number of the _Weekly Journal_ this statement is made: “From an inspection into the several registers for marriages kept at the several alehouses, brandy-shops, &c., within the Rules of the Fleet Prison, we find no less than thirty-two couples joined together from Monday to Thursday last without licences, contrary to an express Act of Parliament against clandestine marriages, that lays a severe fine of £200 on the minister so offending, and £100 each on the persons so married in contradiction to the said statute. Several of the above-named brandy-men and victuallers keep clergymen in their houses at 20s. per week, hit or miss; but it is reported that one there will stoop to no such low conditions, but makes at least £500 per annum of Divinity jobs after that manner.” A fair specimen of the kind of advertisement published by these gentlemen is this:-- G. R.--At the True Chapel, at the old Red Hand and Mitre, three doors up Fleet Lane, and next door to the White Swan, Marriages are performed by authority by the Rev. Mr. Symson, educated at the University of Cambridge, and late chaplain to the Earl of Rothes. _N.B._--Without imposition. A curious phase of the dangers of the streets is found in a narrative published in the _Grub Street Journal_ of 1735, which is well worth reproducing: “Since midsummer last a young lady of birth and fortune was deluded and forced from her friends, and by the assistance of a wrynecked swearing parson, married to an atheistical wretch, whose life is a continued practice of all manner of vice and debauchery. And since the ruin of my relative, another lady of my acquaintance had like to have been trepanned in the following manner: This lady had appointed to meet a gentlewoman at the Old Playhouse in Drury Lane, but extraordinary business prevented her coming. Being alone when the play was done, she bade a boy call a coach for the city. One dressed like a gentleman helps her into it, and jumps in after her. ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘this coach was called for me, and since the weather is so bad, and there is no other, I beg leave to bear you company; I am going into the City, and will set you down wherever you please.’ The lady begged to be excused, but he bade the coachman drive on. Being come to Ludgate Hill, he told her his sister, who waited his coming but five doors up the court, would go with her in two minutes. He went, and returned with his pretended sister, who asked her to step in one minute, and she would wait upon her in the coach. The poor lady foolishly followed her into the house, when instantly the sister vanished, and a tawny fellow in a black coat and a black wig appeared.