Melancholy loss of the medal [graphic].

"A magistrate sits behind his table listening intently to the angry harangue of a naval officer (right) who faces the accused (left), demure-looking, plainly-dressed woman, wearing a checked apron tucked round her waist, but evidently a prostitute. She is supported by two keen-looking lawyers. The officer, who is paunchy and wears very wide white trousers, stands with legs apart, right arm extended with pointing forefinger. He shouts: No. No. I've found my Breeches, but consider your Worship how I shall be Quized--The L--d H--h-A--l knows all about it. I never was before the Public but once, shant forget that in a hurry--Yes--yes I found the breeches, but where's my Silver Gilt Trafalgar Medal eh? I'll have it if it costs me a Thousand Pounds. I could'ent live without it. Ay Ay she's the Thief but I will not hang her unless your worship wishes it--If I had her aboard my Ship D--n me I'de give her a round dozen--I would. Behind him stand a footboy in livery and two rough-looking men. The woman extends both arms and says pathetically I never robbed you Sir. The lawyer says: There's no proof you cant Harm--her."--British Museum online catalogue