May, 1821. A Smoky House and a Scolding Wife. Published at 22 Marylebone Street, Portland Chapel.—A suffering mortal is seated at an unfurnished dinner-table; the man's hands are clasped, his brows are knit, and his lips tightly closed, in an effort to maintain his patience and his temper under two exasperating provocatives to violence. Placed before the bent-down martyr to domestic infirmities is a phantom bone of mutton; presumably the husband has taken exception both to the insufficiency of the joint and the superabundance of smoke, which is eddying round in volumes, and is filling the apartment with dense blackness; while his better half, sailing like a fury out of the gloom, is an object to inspire terror in the boldest heart, and the stings of the sharp tongue are apparently even more intimidating than her nails or her knuckles, all of which weapons of offence are enlisted against her pitiable helpmate.

1821. Tricks on the Turf, or Settling how to Lose a Race. Published by T. Rowlandson.—A scene on a racecourse; the race-horses, led round to be saddled, are seen in the background. A smart young jockey, with his saddle strapped across his own back, and whip in hand, in readiness to begin the race, is receiving the parting instructions of a wily old turfite, who wears a cocked hat, a pigtail, a triple-caped coat, top-boots and spurs. This shrewd trickster is evidently giving his rider certain secret instructions which he would probably not like to hear published abroad on his own authority. The subject of this satire, together with the scandals about the Prince of Wales's horse Escape and his jockey, prove that even in the early days of the Turf its reputation was not immaculate nor its patrons above suspicion.

1821. Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France shortly before the Revolution, embellished with seventeen coloured engravings from designs by T. Rowlandson, Esq. London: Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

'We travellers are in very hard circumstances. If we say nothing but what has been said before us, we are dull and have observed nothing. If we tell anything new, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantic.'—Lady M. W. Montague's Letters.

• Frontispiece.—The Tribunal at Avignon.
• Table d'hÔte.
• Searched by Douaniers on the French Frontiers.
• Consulting the Prophet.
• The Prophet discovering himself and exposing the deception.
• The Arrival in Paris. Offers of services.
• Liberality to infirm Beggars on leaving Yvri.
• Rural Happiness at Caverac.
• Pleasures of a poste aux Anes.
• The Embrace.
• At Avignon. First Sight of Clara.
• At the Tomb of Laura.
• Auction of Relics at Avignon.
• A Prisoner at Avignon.
• Mistakes at Cavaillon.
• A Tragic Story at Avignon.
• The Sacred Page displayed.
• The Inn at Marseilles.

The Douaniers.—'No native of the German side of the Rhine can pass from the territory of Baden to that of France without carrying along with him a certain respect for his country, which he will act wisely to conceal, like any other contraband commodity. This precaution I impressed upon myself as soon as the four horses, whose neighing seemed to express the same feeling, were put to the carriage at the last post-station at Kehl.

'This little place, situated partly on one, and partly on the other side of the Rhine, possesses an equivocal sort of character, which, like the modest, innocent look of a frail fair one, is of great advantage in the way of its trade.

'The reflections on that extraordinary genius Voltaire, whom the mercantile spirit of Beaumarchais contrived to banish to this intermediate spot between Germany and France—excited as I passed the extensive printing office established here for promoting the circulation of his works—were too multifarious for the shortest of all stages; for the life of this extraordinary mortal would afford abundant matter for contemplation during a tour round the globe, without being even then exhausted. My mind standing before him, like a dwarf before a colossus, was about to measure his greatness, when I was under the disagreeable necessity of turning the looks of my admiration another way, in order to cast them with contempt upon the most miserable of all the employÉs of the King, who waited my arrival at the barriers of Strasburg. The postilion seemed to be thinking no more about them than myself, but the cry of "Stop, scoundrel!" from the throats of ten of these varlets suddenly arrested the smart trot at which he was about to pass them. I was instantly surrounded by the rascals, who enquired what I would give to save my baggage from examination. "Nothing! nothing!" cried I, in a tone that would have scared the nymphs of the Rhine. "Nothing?" re-bellowed the incorruptible agents of the Custom House. "Nothing!" I reiterated. "I never make bargains with such fellows." With a profusion of curses and oaths they fell to work upon my baggage, which they ransacked with all the avidity of rats that have got scent of a savoury piece of bacon.

'Indeed, a small bribe would have prevented all this, but I was too much out of temper to submit to give alms to these beggars who had so rudely disturbed my meditations; for this reason my obstinacy—why should I not call the child by its right name?—had received a severe reproof.'

1821. Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe À la Recherche du Pittoresque et Romantique. 28 Illustrations drawn on stone (after the designs of Rowlandson) by Malapeau. Lith. de G. Engelmann. Paris. (See description of The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax, 1812.)

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