_Mem._
Never employ the rascal again.
_9 o'clock._--Dressed in full fig--sword very troublesome--getting
continually between my legs. Sat down to breakfast--her ladyship
complimented me on my appearance--said I looked the _beau ideal_ of a
mayor--took a side glance at myself in the mirror--her ladyship was
perfectly right. Trotter the shoemaker announced--walked in with as much
freedom as he used to do into my shop in Coleman-street--smelt awfully of
"best calf" and "heavy sole"--shook me familiarly by the hand, and actually
called me "Bob." The indignation of the Mayor was roused, and I hinted to
him that I did not understand such liberties, upon which the fellow had the
insolence to laugh in my face--couldn't stand his audacity, so quitted the
room with strong marks of disgust.
_10 o'clock._--Heard that a vagabond was singing "Jim Crow" on
Tower-hill--proceeded with a large body of the civic authorities to arrest
him, but after an arduous chase of half-an-hour we unfortunately lost him
in Houndsditch. Suppressed two illegal apple-stalls in the Minories, and
took up a couple of young black-legs, whom I detected playing at
chuck-farthing on Saffron-hill.
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