timate, in the style of James;-while my discursive illegitimate was avowedly a loose string of pearls, in the style of Howell and James ;“inest sua gratia parvis!"

The Gods give them joy of their taste!— There are authors enough and to spare who write books regulation-wise; but for my part, I do not pretend to be in the regulars. I am a Guerrilla-a backwoodsman-any thing rather than a gentleman who prattles belles lettres for the delectation of Grosvenor Square, and does small literature for the Annuals. As to your historical three volume novels per rule and compass, with a beginning, an end, and a middle, it strikes me that there is beginning to be no end to them, and they are all middling.

I shall consequently continue to tell my story as I think proper. I consider myself a sort of Moor of Venice, relating my adventures; and the Public, my gentle Desdemona, "giving me for my pains a world of sighs,"

besides a smile or two pretty particularly well

worth having.

But it is time, as the man observed who went to see the School for Scandal, that we "should stop talking and begin the play."

And now, as the Princess Scheherazade used to say, "Where did I leave off?"-I think, I told you, Beloved Public,-yes, I certainly told you, that I had deigned to accept an appointment in the household of George IV., and become a bullion tassel on the garment of royalty. It was an auspicious moment for that sort of gold-lace existence. As in the exhausted receiver of an air-pump all bodies possess equal weight, and a feather has the same importance as a guinea, in the factitious atmosphere of the court of Carlton House, Cecil Danby and Castlereagh,-(great Cas. bien entendu)-Jack Harris and the Duke of Wellington-maintained pretty nearly the same specific gravity.

I know not whether my colleagues regarded

the affair in so philosophical a point of view as myself; for we kept up the same plausibilities towards each other in public as monks of a confraternity when they meet in the street, or as the fellows who "honourable gentleman" each other in a place where they are all honourable men."-From the Lord Chamberlain down to the smallest equerry, we were well-padded, well-spoken, individuals; who went through the Ko-Too of courtly life with the decent gravity of office;-exhibiting the same arduous zeal about the shaping of a waistcoat or gilding of a console, as Burleigh for the signature of a treaty, or Marlborough for the opening of a campaign;-for when the Sovereign is a man of fashion, it is manifestly the duty of his Courtiers to be fribbles.

We bored ourselves however very little with London. Having scarcely a house over our royal heads in the capital, we took refuge from "vulgar Pall Mall's oratorio of hisses" and the rotten apples of Charing Cross, in the

happy privacy of our royal country seat; by which judicious retirement, George IV. established himself high in the list of philosophical Kings.

It is clearly the duty of every enlightened monarch to concentrate and display in the highest degree, in his proper person, the national characteristics of his realm. In Spain, it is the business of His most Catholic Majesty to embroider petticoats for the Virgin, like Ferdinand; and suffer himself to be stifled by a brazier rather than violate the laws of etiquette by having it removed by hands not officially qualified for the task. In France, where "what seems its head the likeness of a kingly crown has on," the citizen King should wear worsted epaulettes and assume the contour of a Marylebone Volunteer, good-humoured, hearty, and family-mannish, -while agitating in secret a thousand farsighted plans,-joining in the chorus of the Marseillaise, and keeping a spiked iron-collar round the neck of his house dog.

In Turkey, but it is scarcely safe to talk about concentrated essence of Mussulmaun; and without further prolixities, I hasten to conclude that, in a country where every man's house is his castle,-where exclusion and exclusiveness form the general principle,—where the public monuments are shut up,-the churches closed, -and the grand object of every landed proprietor is to wall out or plant out all possibility of being overlooked by the public, it is the distinctive virtue of the throne to be mysteriously unapproachable.

A king of England should possess the ring of Gyges;-a queen should be the Invisible Girl. Their voices should reach the public, like faint and winged echoes; and when laid in the tomb, it should be in the heart of some Cheopsian pyramid, where it would require the lapse of centuries to make out their remains.

This would be strictly in accordance with the spirit of the national character of a metropolis where next door neighbours, so far