erlain rose from his seat,
and, with every mark of astonishment in his countenance, curled up the
corners of his mouth, cast his eyes round the table, and in a voice as
loud and articulate as he was able, called "Silence!" which being
obtained, he thus addressed the pretorian magistrate, who sat in the
Chair: "My Lord Mayor, the wicked have accused us of intemperance, and
branded us with the imputation of gluttony; that they may be put to open
shame, and their profane tongues be from this day utterly silenced, I
humbly move, that your Lordship command the proper officer to record in
our annals, that two Aldermen of the city of London prefer beans and
bacon to either turtle soup or venison."

Notwithstanding all this, there are men, who, looking on the dark side,
and perhaps rendered splenetic, and soured by not being invited to these
sumptuous entertainments, have affected to fear, that their frequent
repetition would have a tendency to produce a famine, or at least to
check the increase, if not extirpate the species, of those birds,
beasts, and fish, with which the tables of the rich are now so
plentifully supplied. But these half reasoners do not take into their
calculation the number of gentlemen so laudably associated for
encouraging cattle being fed so fat that there is no lean left; or that
more ancient association, sanctioned and supported by severe acts of
parliament, for the preservation of the game. From the exertions of
these and similar societies, we may reasonably hope there is no occasion
to dread any such calamity taking place; though the Guildhall tables
often groaning under such hecatombs as are recorded in the following
account, may make a man of weak nerves and strong digestion, shake his
head, and shudder a little. "On the 29th October, 1727, when George II.
and Queen Caroline honoured the city with their presence at Guildhall,
there were 19 tables, covered with 1075 dishes. The whole expense of
this entertainment to the city was 4889_l._ 4_s._"

To return to the print;--a self-sufficient and consequential beadle,
reading the direction of a letter to Francis Goodchild, Esq. Sheriff of
London, has all the insolence of office. The important and overbearing
air of this dignified personage is well contrasted by the humble
simplicity of the straight-haired messenger behind the bar. The gallery
is well furnished with musicians busily employed in their vocation.

Music hath charms to sooth the savage