room. After a vociferous call for the fupper- bill, which was examined with the moft fcrupulous attention, I expected the commencement of their critical remarks, but heard nothing except repeated haftening of the fupper, chiding of the waiters, and orders for fresh delicacies every moment. Imagining the party were too hungry to think of any fubject till the cravings of appetite were fatisfied, I waited with fome anxiety the conclufion of their meal, during which I was edified by many ferious differtations on the age of the wine, the compofition of the fauce, and the comparative merits of feveral noted cooks. Supper being at length ended, and the glafs going merrily round, now is the time (thought 1) for criticifm! now for a dif play of genius, erudition, and acutenefs! I was all attention; but, to my very great aftonishment, the converfation turned entirely on the actors and actreffes, without a fingle word being faid on the comedy. The actors were praised not for their hiftrionic but convivial excellence, and termed jolly dogs! high fellows! and one or two were enthufiaftically celebrated for their unrivalled abilities as chairmen, punfters, and toaft-mafters: but when the actreffes became the topic of difcourfe, it was with difficulty I could credit the evidence of my ears, thinking they were each defcribing a favourite horfe or hound, as the words fpirit, make, figure, forehand, &c." were run over with all the technical volubility of an experienced huntfman er horfe-dealer!

Having at length waited till the effects of the wine became rather too obvious, I retired to my lodgings difgafted, vexed, and disappointed; and shall return into the country with a full conviction that the young men of the prefent day pay more attention to the kitchen and the cellar than to the ftudy, and enjoy more refined fatisfaction in pleafing the palate than in improving the understanding. Yours, TIMOTHY CRABTREE.

May 2.

VOL. V.

1

THE BLUE AND THE RED JACKETS.

VERSIFICATION OF THE DUKE OF CLARENCE'S SPEECH IN PRAISE OF THE BRITISH ARMY.

MY LORDS,

THOUGH the British blue jacket's unrivall'd at fea,
I admire its red one in equal degree;
No matter what jacket a bold Briton wears,
He'll trim a French jacket wherever he steers!
Let the red, like the blue, be but skilfully led,
And our foldiers will foon send the foe to death's bed;
Give them leaders like Marlbro', like Stair, like Argyle,
Like Wolfe, and such heroes *, the boast of our isle!
Let enfigns, like midshipmen, learn well their art,
Some years ftudy tactics, they'll fill well their part.
Let merit, not money, the land fervice rule,

No commiffions be fold to raw boys juft 'from school!
Let tried talent, let fervice, advancement obtain,
And the brave British army skill'd leaders will gain;
For Britons were equally born to subdue,

Should their jackets be red, or their jackets be blue.
Portfmouth Harbour.

BRIT

MIDSHIPS.

ON THE DEFEAT OF THE DANES.

RITANNIA greets her conquering fons once more;
Yet through her fimiles is feen the rifing tear.

The living the muft praife, the dead deplore!

She weeps their lofs whom memory ftill holds dear.
Peace to their fhades! they boldly death defied;
The heroes bravely fought and nobly died.

Now let the fong of triumph fwell,
And now the victor's glory tell;
Sound high the British feaman's fame,

And English gratitude proclaim:

* When his Royal Highnefs fpoke in praife of the British foldiery, the news of General Abercromby's glorious victory had not arrived.

Speak

Speak how a generous nation gave
Its willing tribute to the brave;
How to the widow's, orphan's grief,
The patriot fountain flow'd relief.
So fhall the language of our hearts include
Our brave defenders' praife-our gratitude.

H.

1

ON THE COMPLAINTS

MADE OF THE BADNESS OF THE SONGS THAT HAD
BEEN WRITTEN IN
66
HONOUR OF OUR BRAVE AND

GALLANT NAVAL DEFENDERS."

OUR

UR valiant tars! no words can speak their meed;
They've drain'd the Mufe's treasure long before;
No lines but those by Nelfon made they read,

No mufic charms them like the cannon's roar !
Yet they poffefs (though bards no hymns can raife),
Silent, yet eloquent-a nation's praife!

EPSOM RACES.

[From the Oracle.]

COME, Madam Mufe, new nib thy pen,
And put on thy beft graces,

To fing in merry jocund train.
The joys of Epfom races."

Curricles, coaches, chaifes, gigs,
Beaux, bloods, and men of trade,
Blacklegs, nobles, peers, and prigs,
All join the cavalcade.

The young, the old, the brown, the fair,
Of pleasure take their fill;

The mania fpreads from Berkeley Square-
As far as Fish Street Hill!

Mifs Drugger cries, "My fweet Papa,
Let's go to Epfon, pray;

There's you, and I, and dear Mamma,
Will fill a one-horse chay.

"In order to go fafe and flow,
By daybreak we'll fet off;
The ride will do you good, I know,
And cure your nafty cough.

"I doats upon the country now,
How fweet the wernal breezes !
We'll take our dinner, too, I wow,
And dine beneath the treezes."

Old Drugget shook his cranium wife,
But Madam cried, "I fegs!

66

What though old Dobbin's loft both eyes,
He ftill has got four legs.

"You cruel man, you're more severe.
Than Chinese, Turk, or Perfian;
Deny your wife and daughter dear
But one fhort day's diverfion?
"So, Mr. Drugget, pray give o'er,
And mind what I defire;

Go to the liv'ryman next door,

And quick a buggy hire.'

The cit found all resistance naught,

My lady was in arneft;

The chaife was hir'd, provifions bought,
And poor old Dobbin harness'd.
Through ev'ry village that they went
The boys began a hooting;
Their luckless feed was almoft fpent
Before they got to, Tooting.

Old Drugget laid on many a blow,
And whipp'd with might and main;
And now, behold, he cried "Gee-ho!"
And now he jerk'd the rein.

At length he turn'd to spousy dear,
And faid, "My fweeteft jewel,
The race-ground, love, is very near,
For, fee, we 're ent'ring Ewell."

Reaching,

Reaching, at laft, the crowded course,
They gap'd, they ftar'd, they wonder'd;
Whilft bets upon the fav'rite horse
Vociferously thunder'd.

The cit exclaim'd, "Confound this din;
I wish, as I'm a finner,
This curfed racing would begin,
That I might get my dinner.

"What with the fagging that I've had,
By Jove I'm almost dead!
Holla! you, Sir! come here, my lad,
You, gin and gingerbread!"

But when the racing lift he reads,
To truft his fight afraid is;
"Zounds! here's not only sporting feeds,
But alfo sporting ladies!

"Sure there was never fuch a scene,
Since days of Father Adam;
I'll fee it nearer;" out he leapt,
And gave the rein to Madam.

Ent'ring a booth, a dext'rous cheat,,
In trick and cunning able,
Seduc'd the unfufpicious cit
To join an EO table.

Tempted by play's inviting call,

A guinea bright he ventures;
And views the circling of the ball,
On expectation's, tenters.

Breathlefs with joy, he gain'd his chaife,
And cried, "The guinea 's won!"
But who can paint his grief, amazė-
His fav'rite watch was gone!

With dreadful ire his bofom burn'd,
But now the horses start;
Alas! the chaife was overturn'd,.
By running 'gainst a cart!

Away went Drugget and his dear,
Away went ham and chicken;

With bottles, glaffes, wine, and beer,
Ye Gods, what pretty picking!