he
preliminaries of peace with France were signed on October the 1st, and
yesterday the 9th, Lauriston, first aide-de-camp to Bonaparte, arrived
in town. The populace were all civility to him so were the ministers.
The French ambassador, Otto, immediately took him to Downing Street,
where he was complimented by Lord Hawkesbury. Lauriston is a general in
the Republican service, with a handsome figure, which, covered with
lace, and the showy decorations of his rank, quite enchanted the
multitude of gazers.

At the peace of 1782, the pleasantry of George Selwyn, on the arrival of
the French ambassador, a remarkably little man, was, "That France had
sent them the preliminaries of peace, by the preliminaries of an
ambassador." Whatever may be the fate of the present preliminaries, the
jest will not apply to the present envoy, who looks the soldier, and
would evidently make a dashing hussar. His progress through the streets
was, from the first, followed by acclamation. But at length it became a
kind of triumph. The zeal of the rabble, (probably under good guidance,
for the French _employes_ comprehend those little arrangements
perfectly,) determined on drawing the carriage. The harness was taken
off, the horses enjoyed a sinecure, the coachman sat in uneasy idleness
on his box, and the crowd tugged away in their best style. The
procession slowly moved through the principal streets of the West End,
till it reached the Foreign Office. After a pause there, for the
delivery of his credentials, Lauriston went to the Admiralty, where St
Vincent, the first lord, (albeit no lover of Frenchmen,) received the
stranger with a good-humoured shake of the hand, and, on parting with
him, made a little speech to the mob, recommending it to them "to take
care and not overset the carriage."

In the evening London was illuminated, and looked as brilliant as lights
and transparencies could make it. An odd incident during the day,
however, showed of what tetchy materials a great populace is made. Otto,
the French resident, in preparing his house for the illumination, had
hung in its front a characteristic motto, in coloured lamps, consisting
of the three words--"France, Concord, England." A party of sailors, who
had rambled through the streets to see the preparations for the night,
could not bring their tongues to relish this juxtaposition; which they
read as if it were, "France _conquered_ England." The mob gathered, and
were of the same opini