duke and three princesses in the front rows, Lord Harcourt and Colonel "Fairly," Lord and Lady Courtown, Lady Pembroke, and others of the retinue standing behind it was the etiquette that these poor people should stand when on duty. The galleries were over their heads, so that the honest folk above could not have a glimpse of the royal party. But nothing could exceed the general delight and enthusiasm-there were shouts and hurrahs through the night. When we think that these country theatres were either "boxes" of the Bijou Theatre kind--something like the old theatre at Richmond-the whole must have the air of a family party, and the king and queen were literally seated among their subjects.

At this time another junketing was made-a visit to Worcester, to Bishop Hurd, who was such a favourite of the royal family. They were quartered at the palace, an old house and not very large, so that the retinue had to be lodged in the town, and the bishop himself and his family had to find quarters elsewhere. The Festival was going on, and the royal visitors-always ardent where music was concerned-attended the oratorios and the evening One night Quick, a favourite, would perform at the little theatre; next night there was Mrs. Wells. On the 29th appeared Mrs. Siddons, in comedy characters— an odd choice-but the queen did not care for highstrung tragedies; nor was this surprising. There is one very pleasing picture of these enjoyments, and which leaves a good impression of the good-hearted and simple

concerts.

ways of their Majesties. They had planned an expedition to Mr. Weld's seat, Lulworth Castle, to which they went by sea. Mrs. Siddons was to play Lady Townley, and their party engaged to return for the performance. The wind was not favourable, and, just as the curtain was about to rise, the manager was aghast at receiving a message that they had only reached Lulworth at five o'clock. They would try to be back in time, but he was to begin with the farce. The house was crowded, but the audience waited most patiently. The farce was played but no king. It came to ten o'clock, but both manager and audience determined to wait, and did. They at last were put ashore close by the theatre, turned into Lady Pembroke's lodgings, where the king sent for his wig and the queen for her maid, and finally entered the theatre to a hurricane of applause, when the play at last began. This, it may be repeated, is an interesting and even charming picture.

Lady Harcourt, describing one of these nights, explains the difficulties of this crowded state of things: one of which was to provide that no persons should be in contact with the royal party. This was arranged by filling the boxes next the royal ones with friends or distinguished persons of the neighbourhood.

"To-day all go to the play. I am to take the box on one side of the queen, because they have not one acquaintance here, and she might have a perfect stranger (beside her), and Lady Courtown, instead of attending her, is obliged to take the other side to sit next the king;

for the same reason I am ordered to get acquainted with some Yorkshire people that are here (the great Tatton Egertons, with £30,000 a year), in order to get them to help this sitting business."

A spy, it was thought, had been sent down, who turned out to be a servant of the Duke of Devonshire. "He walked so close that some of the royal dependents got into talk with him, when he let out 'that he was sure the king was as bad as ever, only well guarded, and he would listen.' But when found out, he went away in great haste to disappoint the wicked wishes of his employers."

The queen had now to come back to her round of duties, with such spirit as she could bring to them, or with as little anticipation of evil as she could shut out. Fanny Burney is still the heroine of the court, and its most vivacious chronicler, and on her we must rely for the most spirited accounts of all that went forward. Her own intimate relations with the queen during this time constitute her the best of all the contemporary reporters. Though her accounts refer mainly to her own personal concerns, they present an excellent picture of her character and methods. Sometimes her Majesty would

come and "look her up" at her rooms, entering without knocking-a privilege, it seems, of royalty. She would turn over her books, and criticize them. She always liked to hear Miss Burney talk of her literary friends. Next day she made her a present of Ogden's sermons, which Miss Burney said was a favourite with Dr. Johnson. "Oh, I am glad of that!" she exclaimed

eagerly. But previously Miss Burney made a fresh mistake, for the worthy Bishop Hurd having arrived, whom she was expected to entertain at her table, she got rid of him and sent him to the equerries. She told the queen of this proceeding, "who made no comment."

Among the teachers at Windsor was a music-master named Webb, who gave the young princesses lessons in music. It is evidence of the kind charity of the king and queen that they employed this unhappy being, who was disfigured by an enormous nose, which spread half over his face. The queen herself used to tell how anxious she was that the princesses should not laugh at the afflicted musician. "When first Mr. Webb was to come to Sophia, I told her he had had some accident to disfigure his whole face, but I desired her to remember this was a misfortune for which he ought to be pitied, and she must be sure not to laugh at him, or stare at him. And she minded this very well, and behaved always very properly. But when Lady Cremorne was at the Lodge and Mr. Webb was announced, Sophia coloured very red, and ran up to Lady Cremorne and said to her in a whisper, 'Lady Cremorne, Mr. Webb has got a very great nose, but that is only to be pitied-so mind you don't laugh.'" The little princess was only nine years old.

One of the most pleasing characteristics of the king and queen was their eager curiosity and longing even to know and patronize such of their subjects who were distinguished for worth and learning. Persons like

Mrs. Hannah More or Mrs. Trimmer, Doctors Johnson and Beattie, and Miss Burney, found the most cordial appreciation. In their absence, they were talked about and inquired after; and all details as to their character and pursuits were gathered up with interest, an interest that was based on a thorough acquaintance with their writings and acts. Any one who was on the side of morals and loyalty was sure of being encouraged. To some persons their Majesties "took a fancy," as it is called; but this was by no means of a transitory kind. It is a surprise that the famous interview with Dr. Johnson at the library at Buckingham House did not lead to further and closer intimacy: the reason probably was that the sturdy doctor was too independent in his ways, and scarcely supple enough in his approaches to royalty. Dr. Beattie, who was more plastic, has left an account of his interview, which is insipid enough, and in odd contrast to the dramatic tone of the great doctor's.

He thus describes the meeting: "Tuesday, the 24th of August, I set out for Dr. Majendie's at Kew Green. The doctor told me that he had not seen the king yesterday, but had left a note in writing to intimate that I was at his house to-day; and that one of the king's pages had come to him this morning to say, 'that his Majesty would see me a little after twelve.'

"At twelve, the doctor and I went to the king's house at Kew. We had been only a few minutes in the hall, when the king and queen came in from an airing; and as they passed through the hall, the king called to me