The autobiography of a clay pipe.

Date:
[Between 1860 and 1869?]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: The autobiography of a clay pipe. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    II.—My Introduction into Public Life, A combination of sounds and a commingling of powerful odours greeted us on our entrance. The place was large and lofty, gorgeous with colour and gilding, and bright with many mirrors. At that time I did not know the meaning of all I saw, but as I have since learned, I will give you the benefit of the acquirements of my after experience. The place which I had entered was called a tavern, or, popularly, a gin palace. A palace is a place into which of course, a pipe never passed—not even by favour of the introduction of a prince—but you know as well as I do that it is the abode of kings. So, many people are devoted subjects of King Gin, and pay him heavy tribute, too. Indeed, one day, when my master was reading the “ Daily Telegraph,” with my bowl almost singeing the page, I saw some very strong language about these people offering up their children on the altar of the “ great god—Gin ! ” Across the splendid chamber ran a wide counter, upon which we were deposited by our bearer. The stout, jovial- looking man, who stood,—with a white apron across his ample front—behind the bar, lifted us from the box, and taking up myself, with two or three companions, placed us, bowls dawnward, in a tall glass goblet. Through the crystal walls of my new abode I could see the scene around me, while its open top allowed me to hear much of the conversation. A motley group stood in front of the bar, and numbers passed in and out of the ever-swinging doors. Curled up on a bench in one corner was a man fast asleep. His hat had fallen on the ground beside him, and his upturned face wore a heavy and stupid expression. Near him a group of men, each with a pipe of some sort in his mouth, were seated around an empty barrel, which served them as a table. Others lolled at the bar, sipping steaming glasses, or drinking huge draughts from pewter pots. Women were there, with bonnetless heads and dishevelled hair, with faces long unacquainted with water, and garments ragged and untidy. Some were treating friends (whom they desired to make use of), and exchang¬ ing many “ My dears,” and other such fawning and in¬ sincere epithets of pretended regard. Some were scowling at each other, and making use of expressions which, if not complimentary, were evidently candid and sincere. It