and a third figure (possibly intended for Alderman Wood) are represented as standing on a pedestal forming the apex of a slender stem labelled "Mobility," which rests on a base marked "Adultery." The whole structure depends for support on a broom (in allusion of course to Mr. Brougham) and two frail pieces of wood, labelled respectively, "Sham addresses," and "Sham processions," which in turn rest on a slender railing, while a ladder on either side, marked "Brass" and "Wood," lend a further slight support to the very insecure fabric. The superincumbent weight of the queen and Bergami breaks the frail stem in pieces, and the three figures tumble to the ground together. The back of the design is occupied with scenes and incidents detailed in the evidence. A very clever caricature, without date (published by T. Sidebotham), I am inclined to assign to this period; and if so, it is one of the most plain spoken and telling satires ever published. It is entitled, _City Scavengers Cleansing the London Streets of Impurities_; a placard which has fallen in the street sufficiently explains its meaning: "By particular desire of the Society for the Suppression of Vice, D-- of K--t in the chair, ordered that the city officers do keep the streets clear of common prostitutes.--Signed, Wood, Mayor."[44] A more foolish and undignified proceeding, however, than this "Bill of Pains and Penalties" can scarcely be conceived. Its fate might almost have been predicted from the first. The second reading was carried on the 6th of November, by a majority of twenty-eight, but the third (for the reasons already given) by a majority of nine only; whereupon, the Earl of Liverpool said that, "had the third reading been carried by as considerable a number of peers as the second had been, he and his colleagues would have felt it their duty to persevere with the bill and to send it down to the other branch of the legislature. In the present state of the country, however, ... they had come to the determination not to proceed further with it."[45] The victory will be acknowledged by us now-a-days as damaging as a defeat; but the result, curious to relate, was hailed by the queen and her party as if her innocence had been triumphantly vindicated. In signing a document prepared by her counsel on the 8th of November, she wrote, "Carolina Regina," adding the words, "there, _Regina_ still, in spite of them." The abandonment of the bill was followed by three nights of illumination; but it was observed that they were of a very partial character, wholly unlike those which had greeted the great victories by sea and land, in which the public sympathy was spontaneous and universal. The mob in some cases testified its disapproval when these signs of satisfaction were wanting; and one gentleman in Bond Street, on being repeatedly requested to "light up," placed a single rushlight in his two-pair-of-stairs window. Some of the transparencies were, as might have been expected, of a singular