"Next the sign-post is an honest tar throwing up his hat, crying 'God bless King _George_.' Before him is an image of drunken loyalty; who, with his shirt out of his breeches, and bayonet in his hand, vows destruction on the heads of the rebels. A fine figure of a speaking old woman, with a basket upon her head, will upon view tell you what she sells. A humane soldier perceiving a fellow hard-loaded with a barrel of gin upon his back, and stopped by the croud, with a gimblet bores a hole in the head of the cask, and is kindly easing him of a part of his burthen. Near him, is the figure of a fine gentleman in the army. As I suppose the painter designed him without character, I shall therefore only observe, that he is a very pretty fellow, and happily the contemplation of his own dear person guards him from the attempts of the wicked women on his right hand. Upon the right hand of this _petit maitre_ is a licentious soldier rude with a girl, who screams and wreaks her little vengeance upon his face, whilst his comrade is removing off some linen which hangs in his way. "You will pardon the invention of a new term--I shall include the whole _King's Head_ in the word _Cattery_, the principal figure of which is a noted fat _Covent Garden_ lady,[4] who, with pious eyes cast up to heaven, prays for the army's success, and the safe return of many of her babes of grace. An officer offers a letter to one of this lady's children, who rejects it; possibly not liking the cause her spark is engaged in, or, what is more probable, his not having paid for her last favour. Above her, a charitable girl is throwing a shilling to a cripple, while another kindly administers a cordial to her companion, as a sure relief against reflection. The rest of the windows are full of the like cattle; and upon the house-top appear three cats, just emblems of the creatures below, but more harmless in their amorous encounters."