for his arts, reflection too often compels her to acknowledge, when sober and sinking under her load of misery; at other times she has recourse to liquor to drown her complicated misfortunes; when wild and infuriated, she more nearly resembles a demon than a woman, spreading forth terror and destruction upon all around; in this state she is often brought to the police-office, where the humanity of the magistrates, softened perhaps by a recollection of her wrongs, generally operates to procure for her some very trifling and lenient sentence.{5} 5 THE LIFE OF A WOMAN OF THE TOWN. Ah! what avails how once appear'd the fair, When from gay equipage she falls obscure? In vain she moves her livid lips in prayer; What man so mean to recollect the poor? From place to place, by unfee'd bailiffs drove, As fainting fawns from thirsty bloodhounds fly; See the sad remnants of unhallow'd love In prisons perish, or on dunghills die. Pimps and dependents once her beauties praised, And on those beauties, vermin-like, they fed; From wretchedness the crew her bounty raised, When by her spoils enrich'd--deny her bread. Through street to street she wends, as want betides, Like Shore's sad wife, in winter's dismal hours; The bleak winds piercing her unnourish'd sides, Her houseless head dripping with drizzy showers. Sickly she strolls amidst the miry lane, While streaming spouts dash on her unclothed neck; By famine pinch'd, pinch'd by disease-bred pain, Contrition's portrait, and rash beauty's wreck. ~345~~We had now passed from the first receptacle to an inner and more elegant apartment, where we could be accommodated with suitable refreshments, wine, spirits, or, in fact, any thing we pleased to order and were disposed to pay for; a practice at most of these early coffee-houses, as they are denominated. The company in this room were, as far as appearances went, of rather a better order; but an event soon occurred which convinced us that their morality was perhaps more exceptionable than the motley group which filled the outer chamber. A bevy of damsels were singing, flirting, and drinking, to amuse their companions,--when all at once the doors were forced open, and in rushed three of the principal officers of Bow-street, the indefatigable Bishop, the determined Smith, and the resolute Ruthven (see plate), all armed and prepared for some dreadful encounter: in an instant their followers had possessed themselves of the doors--flight, therefore, was in vain; and Bob Transit, in attempting it, narrowly escaped an awkward crack on the crania from old Jack Townshend, who being past active service, was posted at the entrance with the beak himself, to do garrison duty. [Illustration: page345]