"Went to breakfast at Benson's, having first called at the Post-Office, and found not sorted on the door: eat my shilling's worth, one buttered roll, one dry toasted, and one cold ditto: heard who had won, or lost, at whist, and billiards, the night before; read the newspapers, and wrote a letter. Went over the way to Silver's library, who at my request gave me the choice of three rides, observing, that I might take a little of each by going round by Kingsgate, the North Foreland, and Broadstairs to Ramsgate, then crossing over to the Camp, and figuring in by Dandelion. 'What a charming General' (said I) 'spoilt in a Toyman. How you understand tactics, Mr. Silver!' 'Used to it all my life, Sir,' (said he with a pleasing flippancy) 'plan rides for the company daily all over the Island.' Set out with the carte du pays in my pocket: visited all the places in it, and finished with the cricket match, and the place of the public breakfast. Heard a lady say she had won two lotteries, and saw Tom Lord run without winning a notch. Went to the ordinary in the gardens at 6s. 6d. a head, for cold chicken, and roast lamb, with a haunch of venison given by a Noble Lord, who, very kindly, having helped himself to the first slice, sent it on. The heat on the cricket ground was intense. I was sorry I did not bring my white hat: but a remedy was at hand, as I learnt afterwards, if I had been ingenious enough to have tied a white handkerchief round the crown of my black one. Having finished my second breakfast, I rode home to dine at Margate. The green where the breakfast was, was much cooler than the burning cricket field, having the advantage of being shaded by the trees in the garden at its back; but I found I was out of luck, as there was no dancing, and, indeed, at the public breakfast, it sometimes happens, that the wagtails, and the yellow-hammers from the Capital are so numerous, and frisky, that the humming birds, the cockatoos, and the birds of Paradise of the higher order won't always hop with them. Got back to Margate on my pony, for which I was to pay 18d. a side, and thought as I rode along on the sands, where I should dine. The boarding houses were all open to me, on paying for a week, or one guinea. This was a great temptation: but having been offered a party at the Bowling green, on Prospect Place, I conceived this to be a better thing, on account of the humours of the loaded pigeon, and the fun of the canting machine, and the fireworks at night. I accordingly rode to my lodgings to dress, and went immediately to dinner. After dinner proceeded to the libraries, where the raffling lists were filling fast: was induced to throw in my shillings at Silver's and Were's: from thence passed on to Wood's, Surflen's, and Garner's. At Surflen's heard music, and several favourite glees: from thence to the playhouse, where I was invited to the rehearsal of a new piece, which was to be full of good things, if it had been suffered to be represented. It was now time to go to supper: I accordingly returned to the Coffee House, and from thence to the Billiard Room, where there was a violent cry of swindler, black-legs, and pickpocket, at which Mrs. Benson interfered, whilst her husband walked coolly up and down the Piazza, not venturing to intrude. The obnoxious person being turned out, and order restored, I retired at one o'clock in the morning.
EPHEMERIS."
—(Times, Oct. 2, 1795.)
Fancy seeing an advertisement like the following, in the Times nowadays:—
Advt.
"A MARE'S to be SOLD,
About six years old,
That's warranted perfectly sound:
Her height's fourteen hands,
And an inch as she stands,
And will trot freely all the way round.
The Mare's to be seen
Any time that's between
The hours of twelve, and of three,
At the Inn called One Bell,
In the Strand they will tell,
Price twenty-five Guineas and three."
—(Times, June 17, 1796.)
"RAMSGATE. (Extract of a letter.)
"Our early season has already begun, and those who are fond of cheap lodgings, have made their appearance hirundine primâ. I assure you, we have City Misses here at this moment, each of whom, in the vain idea of rising 'A new born Goddess from the Sea' sowces into salt water every morning. Our company is of the greater sort. We have Mrs. Deputy Plumb, with her naked daughters, who have scarce more cloathing than a fig leaf on them, and imitate their great grand-dame Eve in much more even than that. Then we have Mrs. Pop from Whitechapel. She came down in state in her own job-coach, which was loaded so full with unredeemed Articles for family wear, that her dear pledges of domestic Love, her daughters, who are the very duplicate of herself, in delicacy and beauty, were forced to come in the Hoy. But she vows it is so shocking to her feelings, that they never shall ride down no more in that nasty sort of water conveyance, though she should spend upon their luxury and elegance ten, out of that thirty per cent., which she grinds from the necessitous miseries of hard-earned industry. Then we have three learned Ladies, who, after the great fatigues of novel-writing in the winter, have retired hither to display themselves to the vast pleasure, and edification, of some ancient enamoratus, who would not yield to Old Q himself in pretensions to gallantry. In truth, we begin to look gaily, early as it is: and I would that the salt-water, for the benefit of the Pops, and the Plumbs, who frequent our watering places, could as easily wash away the mud of vulgarity, and affectation, from their hearts, as it does the rouge from their faces."—(Times, July 8, 1796.)
"BRIGHTON.—The Prince and Princess of Wales's arrival has been talked of much in London; but as yet we have no signs of it here. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough pass their time in a very retired manner indeed. His Grace walked for some time yesterday evening upon the Steyne; the company consisted chiefly of opulent Jews, needy fortune hunters, broken-down Cyprians, fishermen's daughters, and several fat city-dowdies, from the environs of Norton Folgate. Her Grace commands the Play on Friday evening, which will be her first appearance in public here for this season. The Officers of the Blues are the great dashers of the place: they associate with no one but their own Corps. The most of them keep their blood-horses, their curricles, and their girls. At one o'clock they appear on the parade, to hear the word of command given to the Subaltern Guard: afterwards they toss off their goes of brandy, dine about five, and come about eight to the Theatre, Vivent L'Amour et Bacchus."—(Times, July 13, 1796.)