But see how different are things across the Channel. Outside the _Sabot Royal_ a party of French grenadiers, lean and hungry-looking after their poor fare of _soupe maigre_, are watching one of their number cook the sprats he has spitted on his sword. A monk with a grin of satisfaction feels the edge of an axe which he has taken from a cart full of racks and other engines of torture destined towards the furnishing of a monastery at Blackfriars in London, of which a plan is seen lying upon this heap of ironmongery; and a file of soldiers may be seen in the distance, reluctantly embarking for England, and spurred forward by the point of the sergeant's halberd. Garrick wrote the patriotic verses that went with this picture, and you may see from them how constantly Englishmen have thought the French to be a nation of lean and hungry starvelings. That is, of course, as absurd as the unfailing practice of French caricaturists to whom the typical Englishman is a creature who has red hair and protruding teeth, and says "Goddam"-- With lanthorn jaws and croaking gut, See how the half-starv'd Frenchmen strut, And call us English dogs; But soon we'll teach these bragging foes, That beef and beer give heavier blows Than soup and roasted frogs. The priests, inflam'd with righteous hopes, Prepare their axes, wheels, and ropes, To bend the stiff-neck'd sinner: But, should they sink in coming over, Old Nick may fish 'twixt France and Dover, And catch a glorious dinner. [Illustration: THE INVASION OF ENGLAND: ENGLAND. _After Hogarth._] [Sidenote: CHATHAM]