Of which before she was defaulter:
Did she drink stout when on ship-board,
Or was she known to malt at Malta?
June 30.—The Sultan of Turkey died of delirium tremens; the Father of the Faithful going drunk to the seventh heaven! His son—scion of the same die-nasty—ascended the throne; but taught, by example, not to wine, hid his grief and drowned his father's cellars in the Bosphorus. Shortly after this his whole fleet abstained from Port—and absconded to Mehemet Ali.
July 2.—Birmingham riots. A smart fire, but no "Burns's Justice,"—down-fall of much uphold-stery. Beds in flames—among the mattresses great destruction of tick—credit vanishing. Sacrifice of property not unlike sacking. Town in a storm.
July 21.—Rage for publishing portraits of the Queen—some in the Lane and some in the line-manner: some done by Doo, and some engraved by Cousins—not by Cousin George, or Cousin Albert,—not by a Prince man, but a man of Prints. But muzzy-tinto seems the favourite style.
Aug. 30.—The Cinque Ports gave a banquet to the Duke of Wellington, where they did not sink port at all; on the contrary, the feast was carried on with much wine, and a great deal of spirit; and, although the room was surrounded with banners, nothing was found to flag. There were plenty of rations, and orations, and Lord Brougham's Waterloo Eulogy was a eulogy of the first water.
Sept. 7.—The Secretary of War dated a letter from Windsor Castle, mistaking it for his Home Office. As it was, it was only a blunder, but he might as well have kissed Her Majesty by mistake, and then it would have been a blunder-buss.
Sept. 12.—Poulett Thomson went to Canada, in the Pique frigate; and many people were much piqued at the circumstance. The ejaculation of "Shiver my timbers!" became prevalent, at the same time, with the great wood-dealers of British America.
Sept. 22.—Pump locked up at Ramsgate, during divine service.