Of course it was a "cross-charge;" and his honour the Night Constable of course detained both parties; and, moreover, was coarse enough "to shut them up down below." But that was no great matter; for Mr. Smith's bloom suffered no deterioration in consequence; and as for the lady, as his honour the Night Constable said, why she was "_manured_ to the place."[22]

It appeared that on Saturday night Mr. Smith went to one of the Theatres; and after the Theatre was closed, he went to the Rainbow to sup; and, after the supper was over, he returned through Temple-bar, towards his home in the West, arm in arm with a friend; and that friend was smoking a cigar. In this way they walked along very comfortably--"by none offended, and offending none"--quietly discussing the beauty of the night, and the merits of the players, and the supper, and the wine, and the waiters at the Rainbow, and every thing of that sort, until, just as they emerged from beneath the arch-way of Temple-bar, Miss Charlotte Long, in passing, squeezed the dexter hand of his smoking friend. Now, whether it was that his smoking friend had "a hydrophobia" of ladies in general, or whether he _smoked_ Miss Charlotte Long's _character_ in particular, Mr. Smith could not say; but so it was, that Miss Charlotte Long no sooner squeezed his smoking friend's hand, than his smoking friend _smoked_ Miss Charlotte Long's _countenance_, by puffing a cloud from his cigar at it. Mr. Smith could not, in justice, be held responsible for his friend's want of gallantry; but nevertheless Miss Charlotte Long instantly gave Mr. Smith such a smack on his nice round blooming cheek, that all the avenues of the Temple echoed to the blow; and he, fearing the smack would be repeated pushed her from him, and she lost her balance. "And this is the whole truth of the matter," quoth Mr. Smith.

Mornings at Bow Street — Part 52

Miss Charlotte Long, on the other hand, declared that she never touched the filthy fist of the smoker--but that as she was quietly walking along, he rudely puffed the smoke in her face--a thing which she could not a-bear--and then Mr. Smith knocked her down as flat as possible--like a brute as he was.

Mornings at Bow Street — Part 52

The worthy magistrate having listened to these counter-statements with great patience, expressed a wish to see the smoker, and that gentleman immediately came forward; but unfortunately _his_ recollection of the affair had entirely evaporated with the fumes of his own cigar; and eventually the double charge was dismissed, upon each party paying their own fees; the magistrate admonishing Mr. Smith to keep better hours in future, if he valued either his morals or his complexion.

Mornings at Bow Street — Part 52