_January 1, 1804._ _Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites._ Published by S. W. Fores. _January 2, 1804._ _A French Ordinary._ (Originally published in 1801.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--The attractions of a cheap French table d'hôte are ludicrously set forth; while the ravenous diners are represented making the best use of their opportunities within the _salle à manger_, the delicate character of the attendance and the culinary department are slyly hinted. We are admitted to the secrets of _la cuisine Française_, as they have seemingly been revealed to the caricaturist. The slovenly old cook is emptying the morsels left from the plates of the customers, into the capacious _pot-au-feu_, to reappear dished up for succeeding _convives_. A lean cat is seated in the frying pan, probably in course of fattening for the spit; as to the larder, the main provisions consist of dead cats and frogs; it was an accepted axiom that all the _Jean Crapauds_, as our Gallic neighbours were playfully christened by John Bull, lived more or less on frogs. Rowlandson, as we have shown, had French relatives, and had studied in Paris and spoke the language with fluency; while those travellers who were familiar with native habits, from travelling abroad, stoutly maintained that such were the staples of the national food, being convinced of the truth of the formula, as asserted by the waggish Peter Pindar--'I've liv'd among them and have eat their frogs!' [Illustration: A FRENCH ORDINARY.] _June 8, 1804._ _Light Volunteers on a March._ Published by R. Ackermann. _June 8, 1804._ _Light Infantry Volunteers on a March._ Published by Ackermann. _July 31, 1804._ _The Imperial Coronation._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The platform which has been erected for this celebration is more suggestive of an execution than a coronation; a body of the old Guards, in their bear-skin caps, surround the raised space. The Pope is present in full canonicals, to perform the ceremony in person. A gallows has been considerately provided, in order to lower the imperial crown on to the brows of the future wearer more conveniently. On the gallows is painted, 'Patrick Death, Gibbet-maker to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Gulls.' The Pope, who holds the string, which works over a pulley, and suspends the Crown, is crying somewhat irreverently: 'In a little while you shall see him, and in a little while you shall not see him.' The weight of the diadem is too much for the wearer and his new throne, the planks of the platform are broken through, and the future emperor is sinking beneath, while calling to his confederate Talleyrand, 'My dear Talleyrand, save me! my throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a cursed deal of mending!' His prime minister is much concerned, 'Ah, master, the crown is too heavy for you!'