crowd; the company ranges itself
respectfully round the wall; and his Majesty walks round the circle, his
royal son lagging a little behind, and engaging select individuals in
conversation for his own part.

The monarch is a little, keen, fresh-coloured old man, with very
protruding eyes, attired in plain, old-fashioned, snuff-coloured clothes
and brown stockings, his only ornament the blue ribbon of his Order of
the Garter. He speaks in a German accent, but with ease, shrewdness, and
simplicity, addressing those individuals whom he has a mind to notice,
or passing on with a bow. He knew Mr. Lambert well, who had served under
his Majesty at Dettingen, and with his royal son in Scotland, and he
congratulated him good-humouredly on his promotion.

"It is not always," his Majesty was pleased to say, "that we can do
as we like; but I was glad when, for once, I could give myself that
pleasure in your case, General; for my army contains no better officer
as you."

The veteran blushed and bowed, deeply gratified at this speech.
Meanwhile, the Best of Monarchs was looking at Sir Miles Warrington
(whom his Majesty knew perfectly, as the eager recipient of all favours
from all Ministers), and at the young gentleman by his side.

"Who is this?" the Defender of the Faith condescended to ask, pointing
towards George Warrington, who stood before his sovereign in a
respectful attitude, clad in poor Harry's best embroidered suit.

With the deepest reverence Sir Miles informed his King, that the young
gentleman was his nephew, Mr. George Warrington, of Virginia, who asked
leave to pay his humble duty.

"This, then, is the other brother?" the Venerated Prince deigned to
observe. "He came in time, else the other brother would have spent all
the money. My Lord Bishop of Salisbury, why do you come out in this
bitter weather? You had much better stay at home!" and with this, the
revered wielder of Britannia's sceptre passed on to other lords and
gentlemen of his court. Sir Miles Warrington was deeply affected at the
royal condescension. He clapped his nephew's hands. "God bless you, my
boy," he cried; "I told you that you would see the greatest monarch and
the finest gentleman in the world. Is he not so, my Lord Bishop?"

"That, that he is!" cried his lordship, clasping his ruffled hands, and
turning his fine eyes up to the sky, "the best of princes and of men."

"That is Master Louis, my Lady Yarmouth's favourite nephew," says
Lam