To hear 'The Dodger' patter slang, With knowing wink, and accent glib, Or learn from 'Sikes's' ruffian gang, In slap up style to crack a crib. Hail, Fagin! Patriarch of the whole! Kind Patron of these knowing ones-- In thee we trace a kindred soul Of honest Ikey Solomon's! We leave you to your courses vile, For conscience you have none, old Codger! And in our next we'll trace in style, The mug of Jack, the _artful dodger_." [Illustration: FIELD LANE NEGOTIATIONS; OR, A SPECIMEN OF "FINE DRAWING."] The artistic merit of this poetry is _nil_, and my only excuse is the introduction of a forgotten sketch by a dead artist, who, in his day was popular and famous. Who, for instance, remembering Leech's pictures in _Punch_, would think that this illustration ever came from his pencil? but it did, and from _Bell's Life in London_; and so did another, of two children fighting in Chick Lane, whilst their parents, the father with a broken nose, and the mother with a black eye, look on approvingly. "FIELD LANE NEGOTIATIONS; OR, A SPECIMEN OF 'FINE DRAWING.' Thish ish vot I callsh 'caushe and effect;' caushe if vee thidn't buy, no bothy vood shell, and if vee thidn't shell, nobothy vood buy; and vot's more, if peoplesh thidn't have foglesh, vy, nobothy could prig em" (_See_ Abrahams on the "Economy of Wipes"). Those were the days of large and valuable silk Bandana handkerchiefs, and the story used to be told that you might have your pocket picked of your handkerchief at one end of Field Lane, and buy it again at the other end, with the marking taken out. Long before Fagin's time, however, there was a school for young thieves in this neighbourhood, _vide Gentleman's Magazine_ (1765), vol. xxxv. p. 145.