were alive to see his boy Jack going down to Westminster, to chop sticks and count hobnails, in a carriage like this!” My children were like mad things:  and in the afternoon, when I put on my first new brown court suit (lined, like my chariot, with white silk) and fitted up with cut steel buttons, just to try the effect, it all appeared like a dream; the sword, which I tried on every night for half an hour after I went up to bed, to practise walking with it, was very inconvenient at first; but use is second nature; and so by rehearsing and rehearsing, I made myself perfect before that auspicious day when Sheriffs flourish and geese prevail—­namely, the twenty-ninth of September.

The twelve months which followed were very delightful; for independently of the positive honour and eclat they produced, I had the Mayoralty in prospectu (having attained my aldermanic gown by an immense majority the preceding year), and as I used during the sessions to sit in my box at the Old Bailey, with my bag at my back and my bouquet on my book, my thoughts were wholly devoted to one object of contemplation; culprits stood trembling to hear the verdict of a jury, and I regarded them not; convicts knelt to receive the fatal fiat of the Recorder, and I heeded not their sufferings, as I watched the Lord Mayor seated in the centre of the bench, with the sword of justice stuck up in a goblet over his head—­there, thought I, if I live two years, shall I sit—­however, even as it was, it was very agreeable.  When executions, the chief drawbacks to my delight, happened, I found, after a little seasoning, I took the thing coolly, and enjoyed my toast and tea after the patients were turned off, just as if nothing had happened; for, in my time, we hanged at eight and breakfasted at a quarter after, so that without much hurry we were able to finish our muffins just in time for the cutting down at nine.  I had to go to the House of Commons with a petition, and to Court with an address—­trying situations for one of the Scroppses—­however, the want of state in parliament, and the very little attention paid to us by the members, put me quite at my ease at Westminster; while the gracious urbanity of our accomplished monarch on his throne made me equally comfortable at St. James’s.  Still I was but a secondary person, or rather only one of two secondary persons—­the chief of bailiffs and principal Jack Ketch; there was a step to gain—­and, as I often mentioned in confidence to Mrs. Scropps, I was sure my heart would never be still until I had reached the pinnacle.

Behold at length the time arrived!—­Guildhall crowded to excess—­the hustings thronged—­the aldermen retire—­they return—­their choice is announced to the people—­it has fallen upon John Ebenezer Scropps, Esq., Alderman and spectacle maker—­a sudden shout is heard—­“Scropps for ever!” resounds—­the whole assembly seems to vanish from my sight—­I come forward—­am invested with the chain—­I bow—­make a speech—­tumble over the train of the Recorder, and tread upon the tenderest toe of Mr. Deputy Pod—­leave the hall in ecstasy, and drive home to Mrs. Scropps in a state of mind bordering upon insanity.