Gloucester is proverbial for its dulness, and from the dirty appearance
of the streets and houses, was, by my friend Transit, denominated the
black city; a designation he maintained to be strictly correct, since it
has a cathedral, a bishop, and a black choir of canonicals, and was
from earliest times the residence of a black brotherhood of monks, whose
black deeds are recorded in the black letter pages of English history;
to which was added another confirmatory circumstance, that upon our
entrance it happened the assizes for the county had just commenced, and
the black gowns of Banco Regis, and of the law, were preparing to try
the blacks of Gloucestershire, out of which arose a black joke, that
will long be remembered by the inhabitants of Berkeley, and the tenantry
of the sable colonel.
We had made our domicile at the Ham Inn, by the recommendation of our
Cheltenham host, where we met with excellent accommodations, and what,
beside, we could never have anticipated to have met with in such a
place, one of the richest scenes that had yet presented itself in the
course of our eccentric tour.
The unusual bustle that prevailed in every department of the inn,
together with a concatenation of sounds now resembling singing and
speaking, and the occasional scraping of some ill-toned violins above
our heads, induced us to make a few inquisitive ~286~~remarks to mine
host of the Ham, that quickly put us in possession of the following
facts.
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