"So may great Nassau and his Royal Dame, In blended love, glide with a gentle stream, Nor ebb 'till sweet repose of night they know, At day's return, fresh tides of transport flow." 2000 lamps were used for the above transparencies: the monument was singularly ornamented with lamps suspended on the urn and flame, and the Duke of Newcastle caused a large bonfire to be lighted before his door in Lincoln's-inn-fields, where he regaled the populace with strong-beer. The humane Act for the transportation of felons had saved 6000 lives in the Metropolis alone, from the date of its commencement till 1734. The Beau of 1734 "was like the cinnamon-tree; his bark is worth more than his body. A creature of the doubtful gender, masculine in habit, and feminine in manners; one who has so little manners, that he himself doth not regard it half so much as his body. All his reading has been the academy of compliments; and his heels have profited as much by it as his head. The cut of his clothes he learnt at Paris, the tone of his voice in Italy, and his affectation every where. In his dressing he shews his industry; for he spends four hours a day constantly in it without being fatigued or out of patience. His genius appears in the variety of his suits, and his generosity in his taylor's bills; his delicacy in not so much as bearing a breath of wind to blow on him, and his innocency in being seen with ladies at all hours, and never once suspected of doing an uncivil thing. When he is dressed, the business of the day is over; when he is undressed, he grows invisible, for his clothes are all that is seen of him; when he dies, they are his only valuable remains, and hung up as trophies in Monmouth-street." The customs and manners of a part of the community of 1735 are satirically detailed in a "Covent-garden Eclogue:" "The _midnight_ Justice, now devoid of care, Began to slumber in his elbow-chair; Long had he wak'd, but now his trade was o'er, Nor could expect a single shilling more: The watch had cry'd _Past one_, with hollow strain, And to their stands return'd to sleep again; Grave cits and bullies, rakes and squeamish beaux, Came reeling with their doxies from the Rose; Jephson's and Mitchell's hurry now was done, And now Tom King's (so rakes ordain'd) begun; Bright shone the Moon, and calm around the sky, No cinder-wench, nor straggling link-boy nigh, When in that _garden_, where with mimic pow'r Strut the mock-purple heroes of an hour; Where by grave _matrons_ cabbages are sold, Who all the live-long day drink _gin_ and _scold_;" &c.