June 4, 1808. Odd Fellows from Downing Street, complaining to John Bull. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside (168).—John Bull, in his best clothes, and standing in the vicinity of the Treasury, is receiving a deputation, the members of which, as far as appearance goes, are singularly fitted for the order of Odd-fellows. The object of their interview is simply an appeal to the sympathies of the National Prototype: 'You must know, Mr. Bull, we are a society of Odd Fellows who had a Lodge in Downing Street, and were robb'd of our cash and accounts, notwithstanding we met at the King's Head, and so near the Treasury too! Is not it very hard? However, we have left Downing Street entirely.' John Bull, who, with his hand beneath his coat-tails, is ruminating over other more weighty matters applying to his own case, and peering through his huge spectacles, returns in reply: 'All I have to say, my good friends, is this—I am very sorry for you, but I must own I am of opinion if some more Odd Fellows in Downing Street were to quit their situations it would be very much to my advantage!'
June 20, 1808. [A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral.] Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Very different cheer to the Volunteer Prime, is found on board the ship of the port-admiral. That worthy personage is drawn entertaining his naval colleagues, admirals, commodores, and captains, in his state cabin, with the best of cheer; baskets of prime vintage from the Isles of the Madeira, are ready to the nimble steward's hand, and the goodly flasks are uncorked in a twinkling. The jorums on the mahogany are capacious, and the glasses, which are freely emptied, would serve as goblets for more than half-pint bumpers; however, in spite of the hilarity, and the liberal circulation of the decanters, decorum is preserved, and the naval commanders are comporting themselves like 'fine old English gentlemen,' while the toast goes round:—
Come Hurricane,
Drink your Wine.
Here's to the wind that blows,
The ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor.
A SNUG CABIN, OR PORT ADMIRAL.
June 30, 1808. Accommodation, or Lodgings to Let at Portsmouth. Published by T. Tegg. (219.)—Certain smartly-rigged tars have just come on shore, evidently after a handsome haul in the way of prize-money, as the spruceness of their turn-out evinces. A highly presentable 'salt' has his wife in tow; the lady has evidently taken a share of his good fortune, being dressed in the height of the fashion, with ear-rings, necklets, and chains, heavy enough for cables, to which are suspended miniatures, seals, and watches. The happy pair are evidently about to set up housekeeping, and an advertisement-board has just arrested their attention, conveying the information, 'Lodgings for Single Men and their Wives,' with an invitation to ring the bell. 'Why, Nan,' exclaims the tar to his partner, 'this is the very berth we have been so long looking after!'
June 30, 1808. The Welsh Sailor's Mistake, or Tars in Conversation. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (220.)—The artist has assumed a little poetic licence to perpetrate a jokelet of a very harmless order. Groups of sailors are seated on the forecastle, some perched on coils of rope, others on sea chests; a British tar, on a barrel, with a canister of 'real Oronooko' by his side, is spinning a yarn to his messmates; he has arrived at the exciting incident of his narrative:—'and so then, do you see, David, we sprung a leak!' when his Welsh messmate, who cannot resist this allusion to a reputed national delicacy, rather irrationally interrupts him: 'Cot pless us—and save us—did you? and a ferry coot fetchitable it is; I should have liked to have had a pit with you.'
October 25, 1808. A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures. Woodward del., engraved by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg.