THE LATER MAILS ±i 



period were not clever at clearing a route, 

 Imaii^ine noAV the front of Carlton House Palace, 

 or St. James's, and the Londoners of that age 

 assem])led in their thousands. The procession 

 with difficulty approaches, and halts. Two harrels 

 of porter — Barclay & Perkins' hest — are in 

 position in front of the Royal residence, and to 

 each coachman and guard is handed a capacious 

 pewter i:)ot — it is a sight to make a Good Templar 

 weep. The King and Queen and the Royal 

 family noAV aj)pear at an open window, the King 

 removing his hat and howing, to a storm of 

 applause — as though he had done something 

 really clever or wonderful. Now the coachman 

 of the Bristol Mail uncovers, and holding high 

 the shining pewter, exclaims : " We drink to 

 the health of His Gracious Majesty : God l)less 

 him ! " and suiting the action to the words, dips 

 his nose into the pot, Avhicli in an incredibly 

 short time is completely inverted and emptied. 

 Fifty-three otlier voices simultaneously repeat 

 the same words, and fifty-three pint pots are 

 in like manner drained in the twinkling of an 

 eve. The King and his familv now retire, and 

 the procession jirepares to move on ; but the 

 mob, moved by loyalty and the siglit of the 

 beer-barrels, grows clamorous : " King, King ! 

 Queen, Queen!" cry a thousand voices; Avliile 

 a thousand more yell, " Beer, beer ! " When at 

 length the King does return, to ])ow once more, 

 he gazes upon tAvo thousand peojile struggling 

 for two half-empty barrels, wliich in the scuffle 



