LOSS OF THE WARSPITE. 335 finds him preparing to pack up his alls, and selling his old junk; said he would endeavour to make up his mind to strike his flag; but he was a poor man, with a large family, and must take some days to consider of it; the Admiral proposes giving the Ostentatious, a three-decker, to Marquis Tipperary; he knew this would please me, and make sure of us continuing in office. July 13 to 20.--Charming weather. Keep my ship. Sept. 2.--Dreadful storm. Tried to pass the Straits of Walcheren. Vice-admiral caught the Flushing frenzy fever. The Admiral saw a tremendous storm brewing; determined to strike his flag; said I would do the same; made signal to the George R-e, King's cutter, to come alongside; answered, she was leaky. Sept. 7.Hurricane. Found my timbers giving way; would not attend council of war. Sept. 8.-Stormy. Vice-admiral struck his flag. Sept. 14.-Stormy. Commodore came on board; dull as a November fog; could not explain any thing. Sept. 19.-Foggy. Commodere wrote to explain; could not understand a word-no explanation at all. Sept. 20.-Violent tempest. Vice-admiral writes a challenge; answer him cheerfully. Sept. 21. Vice-admiral fires a shot at the Warspite, hits the Captain's stern-gallery; made signals of distress; all the King's ships sheered off; sprung a leak. N. B. At this moment the Captain and all the crew (which was a very bad one) went to their watery grave, probably never to rise again. De mortuis nil nisi bonum ! INTELLIGENCE INTELLIGENCE FOR THE COUNTRY, IN A LETTER FROM MR. GABRIEL GUBBINS, IN LON DON, TO THE MAYOR OF ***, IN THE COUNTRY †. [From the Morning Post, Dec. 7.] Α1 T your instance, dear Cousin, I take up my pen; It acts on your nerves as a sort of a charm ; You have heard of Newmarket, that high-flying seat, But, though beaten and distanc'd, yet firmly believe, Still hopes in new trials to find out a flaw: Thread the Sessions, Exchequer, King's Bench, and Old Bailey; Then turn right and left, in or out for a chance; As a man who has lost his "good name or his purse," That a witness should swear without fee or reward; But, alas! though his counsel (and bad is the Best) That cheating the Commons might once be amusing, And the Colonel's best pleadings are kick'd out of court. To learn from each witness the "sounding and bearing," + See pp. 133, 135, 144. Who KING JOHN WAS A MANAGER, * 337 Who, piously leaving the wife of his youth, Sad exit for virtue, so pure and so true!- KING JOHN WAS A MANAGER: A NEW BALLAD. [From the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 7.1 Air-" My Master's a Conjuror.” KING John was a manager mighty and high- He built private boxes, the devil knows why- There lords and gay madams were showing their scorns, With battle 'em, rattle 'em, Fiddle dum, diddle dum, Spurn him out, turn him out, Kemble, O! tremble, O! Hey populorum jig. Then down our poor throttles new prices to cram, Hey populorum jig; He hired Mendoza, he hired Dutch Sam, Hey populorum jig. O wonderful story! O wonderful news! John Kemble, the Papist, in league with the Jews! VOL XIII John John Bull is the civilest creature alive, A baby may lead, but the devil can't drive. Says he to the Alphabet right merrily, As sly as a fisherman, Brandon arose--- He angled for P.'s and he bobb'd for the O.'s- He fish'd up poor Clifford just like a dead cat, He found his mistake, and he trembled with fear Because he had hook'd the wrong sow by the ear, Poor Kemble look'd dull as a man in the stocks, When next Mr. Kemble he acts in Macbeth, I think that the town will be in at the death, And whenever a box-keeper passes his bounds, ANTI-CLAVIS. GRAY'S BARD-(A PARODY). "R [From the Morning Post, Dec. 8.] Such GRAY'S BARD. Such were the sounds that from the gallery's height And wak'd the yell of clamorous Row: Prepar'd the loose placard to throw. Our fierce battalions deafening clamours breathe, For high-born Shakspeare's harp, or softer Otway's lay. That rous'd the stormy scene, Brave Cowlam sleeps upon a craggy bed, Made lofty Graham bow his crested head: Struck with dismay, and ghastly pale, The Attorney General screams, and passes by. Dear as the ruddy drops that glad my eyes; No more I weep, they do not sleep; I see them sit, they linger yet, And only wait a rallying hand With me in dreadful harmony to join, 339 |