1832.] Oyster-Day in London. 31 



An altercation now ensued between the humane and Howard-like 

 roaster of oysters, and the more savage and cannibal-like admirer of 

 them in puris naturalibus, that, in point of noise, rivalled the vociferations 

 of my juvenile street-persecutors, from whom I had so recently escaped. 

 I forget the name of the traveller who expresses himself disappointed 

 with the Falls of Niagara, and asserts, " that you cannot see anything for 

 the noise." But I can very easily understand what he means ; for, in the 

 midst of the asseverations and contradictions, that seemed to me the rav- 

 ings of two persons afflicted with oyster-phobia, a dimness came over 

 my eyes, and rendered the orators as invisible to me as their arguments 

 were to each other. In my confusion, not knowing what I did, I swal- 

 lowed a dozen of the unfortunate fish, with some accompanying delica- 

 cies, which, in my delirium, I suppose I must have called for. Imme- 

 diately after, whether lulled by the perfect stillness which ensued upon 

 the retreat of one of the disputants, whose appetite and arguments I 

 presume came to an end together, I know not ; but a sweet sleep stole 

 over me. I say sweet, because the word is poetical ; but my repose was 

 much of the same nature as that of an alderman after a November feast. 

 Visions of the preceding bliss float before his senses. By some ingenious 

 process, his corpulent dame appears to him like " green fat ;" his two 

 daughters, as " calipash and calipee ;" and the cranium of his hopeful 

 son, as the empty shell ! 



It is natural to suppose that the subject with which the imagination 

 has been most excited during our waking hours, should resume its influ- 

 ence during our slumber. Objects, by this means, not unfrequently 

 become ludicrously distorted, and mixed up with each other into a hete- 

 rogeneous compound, each particle perfectly distinct in itself but 

 forming a whole perfectly indefinable. Sometimes, however, there is 

 method in such madness as there was in my case. Reclining against 

 the corner of the box, apparently insensible to objects around, my imagi- 

 nation transported me to an oyster-bed by the sea-shore, where, being 

 wearied, I laid myself down to repose. My pillow was a huge bunch of 

 sea-weed ; but finding, somehow or other, that the bed I had chosen was 

 not one of roses, I endeavoured to change sides ; when what was my 

 dismay, to find myself jammed in an immense oyster-shell ! The idea, 

 however, of size or. proportion was entirely lost to me. I could neither 

 move nor speak ; but laid there, as it seemed, flat on my back in my 

 pearly dungeon. My thoughts at that time I cannot precisely define: 

 self -preservation was uppermost. The return of the tide I knew would 

 overwhelm me, unless I partook of the nature of an oyster, which I could 

 hardly promise myself. Escape, and the means of making my situation 

 known, were denied me. The " ancient Pistol," I think, exclaims, " Why, 

 then, the world's mine oyster !" But my condition, at that moment, was 

 exactly the reverse of his : an ovster was my world my place of banish- 

 ment for life ; a sort of supernatural Court of Chancery, where, being 

 once in, the idea of getting out seemed perfectly romantic. 



In this situation I remained, as it seemed to me, for many hours ; 

 when, to my great relief, I heard the sound of human voices. I found 

 it proceeded from a party of oyster-eaters, who had sought the bed 

 whereon I lay, for the purpose, as they supposed, of enjoying their 

 favourite food in greater perfection. Instantly my hopes of relief were 

 drowned in the horrible idea that I might be selected, and immolated on 

 the altar of their barbarous appetites. They seemed to approach the 



