"Pictorial Times" (London), Sept. 30, 1843, p. 94:

"Court of REQUESTS, WESTMINSTER. — The Song-writer of Seven DIALS. – Mr. Edward Julian Morten, a tall, thin specimen of humanity, attired in a dingy suit of second-hand habiliments, that looked, like the wearer, rather ancient, appeared before the court to prefer his claim against Mr. Alexander Sadgrove, for the sum of 10s. 6d.

Commissioner: What is the nature of this demand? What is it for?

Plaintiff: For ballads and other original poetry, written for the defendant.

Commissioner: Poetry! I'm afraid we shall not be able to appreciate the value of that commodity here.

Plaintiff (with a very self-satisfied smile, and taking a roll of printed ballads out of his hat): I think I can assist you upon that point, sir. Allow me to read you one or two of my very numerous and highly-popular compositions.

Commissioner: No, pray, no Just hand them here, if you particularly wish us to see them.

The ballads were accordingly handed up, and some of their titles read by the commissioners; among others were “Victoria the Queen of the Sea,” “Father Mathew's Tea-pot,” “Dorothy Douse, or the Cold-water Cure;” and another ballad entitled “The Bluebottle Buzzing,” and beginning “Oh maidens, beware of the new police.”

Commissioner (to plaintiff): I suppose we may call these the songs of Seven Dials, and you the song-writer. But what have these to do with your claim against the defendant?

Plaintiff; He is a singer, sir, and I wrote some of these songs expressly for him — the “Queen of the Sea” and “Father Mathew's Teapot” in particular. He was to have paid me 3s. 6d. a piece, and he owes me for the two I have mentioned and another.

Commissioner (to defendant): Do you admit this?

The defendant (a miserable-looking creature, wrapped up in an old pilot coat buttoned to his chin) frankly acknowledged the correctness of the plaintiff's demand.

Commissioner: Well, how will you pay it?

Defendant: That's exactly what I don't know, sir. The fact is, that I got the plaintiff to write these songs for me, and had them printed at my own expense to sing and sell about the streets, but it was a bad speculation.

Commissioner: Oh, you are a ballad-singer!

Defendant: That's all, sir — only a poor fellow who has to sing for his dinner every day, and seldom gets it more than once a week. The profession was a good profession some years ago, but this newfangled singing for the million has ruined it, and people learn to sing for themselves now, and their ears get so nice there is no pleasing them.

Commissioner (to plaintiff): Well, you must not be hard with him. Suppose he pays you 2s. a month?

This suggestion was immediately agreed to, and the songwriter and song-sing.er retired in amity to a neighbouring public-house, to discuss the present depressed state of their respective professions."