"To the CONDUCTOR of the TIMES.
"Sir,—Among many others, I was yesterday a spectator of what you notice in your paper of this morning. A pair of those noble animals, which, for several years, have drawn his Majesty's State Coach, degraded to a hack. The spectacle really gave me concern, and must certainly reflect disgrace somewhere. It necessarily suggests two considerations, one relative to the dignity of Majesty itself, the other to the natural emotions of sensibility. What! say the vulgar, are the King's State Horses come to this? Oh! what a pity! says the man of sensibility, that these poor creatures recently, and habitually, so caressed, and pampered, should experience such a lamentable reverse! How fallen, how abused, how galled! I assure you, Mr. Editor, they are literally, and grievously, galled. Surely his Majesty must be a stranger to all this: and it would be of no dis-service to him, to let the Public know that he is so. Those who love him, cannot but feel for his horses, nor refrain from thinking that his sensibility, as a man, must be hurt, at hearing of the sufferings of those stately animals, which once contributed to his most magnificent public appearance.
A Dutiful Subject."
—(Times, Aug. 12, 1796.)
Here is a bit of Satire on the Prince of Wales, who was notoriously at variance with both his father and mother.
"An illustrious Personage is now engaged in making a collection of the profile likenesses of his friends. The number already collected is stated to amount to fifty. His friends are certainly more numerous than those of almost any Prince we ever heard of, except our own Sovereign. The wealthy Crœsus had but one friend, and that was his son."—(Times, Nov. 6, 1799.)
VARIETIES.
The year 1788 begins well, with an account of a coming of age, which seems to have been conducted in the classical taste peculiar to this period.
"The late celebration of Miss Pulteney coming of age, bore much the appearance of idolatrous sacrifice. The procession headed by an ox, adorned with flowers, his horns painted blue, and tipped with gold, preceded by a band of music, and afterwards offered up, were all so much in character, that could the High Priest, himself, of Rome been present, and beheld the charming object of their veneration, he would have mistaken her for a Venus, and joined the throng, with all that ardour the immediate presence of a divinity ought to inspire."—(Morning Post, Jan. 1, 1788.)
The following advertisement from the Morning Post of March 13, 1788, gives us perhaps the earliest glimmer of reform on the old tinder box, flint and steel, and matches, Lucifer Matches not being generally used till 1834:—