After an illness that lasted six weeks, King George, who knew the seriousness of its nature, made a speech before the House of Peers, during which he asked that an act might be passed enabling him from time to time to appoint the queen or some other member of the royal family as guardian to the heir-apparent, and regent of the kingdom. Parliament granted this right.

The Duke of Cumberland died at this time. It will be remembered that he was the favorite son of Queen Caroline, and uncle of George III. Never was there so popular a prince, or one so winning in his ways when he was young; but his health began to fail by the time he was twenty years of age, and he was only forty-four at the time of his death. A paralytic stroke had almost deprived him of the sight of one eye in his youth, and a wound received on his leg at the battle of Dettingen, when he fought so bravely at his father's side, had left him lame. He was so unfortunate on the battle-field afterwards that he retired to private life, and devoted himself to gaming and horse-racing. Then he ceased to be a favorite; for right-minded people could not approve of such a senseless waste of time. There is one anecdote that shows a good trait in his character, even while he was leading a useless life.

The duke's death was followed by that of his majesty's youngest brother, Prince Frederick, and these two events cast a gloom over the royal family for some time. The king and queen were then living at Richmond, and amused themselves by visiting places in the neighborhood. Their household was maintained on a very modest scale, and with a small retinue of servants. The birth of their first daughter occurred this year, and she was christened Charlotte Augusta. This event was succeeded by the marriage of the king's niece, Caroline Matilda, with Christian VII., King of Denmark. A most unfortunate union this one proved, for the groom was in every respect a man of detestable character, and treated his poor wife with extreme cruelty. Before ten years of married life had passed away, this queen had been carried to Zell for safety by a British fleet, and there she lived and died, neglected and forgotten.

A.D. 1768. We have spoken of the economy of George III. and his wife; but they sometimes gave entertainments that were occasions of great display when they were in town, and formed a striking contrast to their simple, private life in the country.

Meanwhile, the royal couple were happy and contented in their domestic life. When they were at Kew they rose at six-o'clock, and spent a couple of hours doing exactly as they pleased, undisturbed by business of any sort, and untrammelled by ceremony. At eight o'clock there was a lively family breakfast, at which the sovereigns were surrounded by their children, who at this meal were permitted to chatter freely. This was a privilege, for in public they were taught to be silent, and it was at this time in the day that parents and children became best acquainted with each other. The king was so fond of riding that he passed much time between breakfast and dinner on horseback, and even went in the rain sometimes in this manner to attend a council meeting at St. James's.

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Queen Charlotte, and often the king too, presided at the children's early dinner; and every week there was a family excursion to Richmond Gardens, where, while the young people played, the queen would do some needle-work, and his majesty would read aloud to her, generally from Shakespeare. In this pleasant manner the children of George III. and Charlotte passed their early lives; and, as the Prince of Wales and his brother of York grew older, they had a piece of ground in the garden at Kew, which they cultivated with their own hands. There they sowed wheat, attended the growth of their little crop, weeded and gathered it all by themselves. They even went further: for they threshed the grain, ground it, and attended the whole process of making it into bread, which was eaten by the royal family with great relish.

The Duke of York was a very little boy when he was found one day in the cottage of one of the villagers, who lived near Kew, seated on a low stool shelling peas, his occupation being shared by a pretty little fair-haired girl, with whom he fancied he was very much in love. He was closely watched after that, and not permitted to run after rustic beauties any more.

Queen Charlotte and George III. both patronized art, though they were rather deficient in taste. A charter was granted to the society of artists, and Joshua Reynolds, its first president, was knighted, though the king preferred the paintings of some less gifted artists. Benjamin West, who succeeded Sir Joshua as president of the society, was such a favorite that in the course of thirty years he painted sixty-four pictures for George III., and received a very liberal sum of money for them. Once, when a picture by Wilson, which had been ordered for the royal collection, was shown to the king, he exclaimed: "Hey! What! Do you call this painting? Take it away; I call it daubing! Hey—what!—'T is a mere daub!" He then inquired what Wilson expected for his work; and, on being told a hundred guineas, he declared it was the dearest picture he ever saw: "Too much,—too much," added his majesty; "tell him I say so."

A.D. 1772. The death of his mother was a great sorrow to George, for he was tenderly attached to her. He had shown his devotion by visiting her regularly every evening at eight o'clock, in company with Queen Charlotte, and she had been his guardian and adviser ever since the death of his father. Princess Augusta's character has been so differently estimated that it is impossible to form a correct judgment of it; but it is allowed by all that she was benevolent, and possessed many good qualities. She certainly was honest in paying off, out of her own income, the heavy debts that her husband left. Let us accept what Bishop Newton, her chaplain, said of her: "The calmness and composure of her death were further proofs and attestations of the goodness of her life; and she died, as she had lived, beloved and lamented most by those who knew her best.".

Meanwhile, children were being added to the royal family, and Queen Charlotte devoted herself to their care and education. One day a visitor was surprised at seeing one of the princesses, then six years of age, run to her mother with a book in her hand, and tearfully exclaim, "Madam, I cannot comprehend it! I cannot comprehend it!"

"Well, my child," said the queen, "do not be alarmed; what you cannot comprehend to-day you may comprehend to-morrow; and what you cannot attain to this year, you may arrive at the next. Do not, therefore, be frightened with little difficulties; but attend to what you do know, and the rest will come in time."

"This," said the visitor afterwards, "was good common sense, and a golden rule well worthy our observation."

[A.D. 1773.] Let us see what progress literature made in this reign. Though George II. never looked at a book if he could possibly avoid it,—and he generally managed' to do so,—literature began to improve in his day, and many periodicals were established. These gave rise to a new class of writers, who called themselves critics. They began by merely giving a list of the new books that appeared. After a time short notices accompanied the titles, and the contents of the works, with opinions as to the merit or demerit were given. This was the origin of the reviews, which at the present time form such an important part of the magazine articles of the present day. This class of periodicals became numerous after the accession of George III.; but the critics did not confine themselves to notices of books, for they took delight in abusing people, and brought to light a large amount of private scandal, by resorting to the use of fictitious names. The charm of the writings of such men as Fielding and Smollett, as well as the memoirs and novels of other authors, consisted in the facility of recognizing the portraits of well-known individuals of the day, whose weaknesses were often presented in false and glaring colors. These critics spent their whole time in coffee-houses and at the theatres, where they were ever on the alert for any bit of gossip, that, whether true or false, they managed to work up into an interesting and spicy article for their papers. Of course there was no end of quarrels resulting from such proceedings; but these men would have starved if the periodicals had not existed, for the House of Hanover did not patronize literary men. To be sure, Queen Charlotte did procure a pension of two hundred pounds a year for Beattie; but neither she nor Lord Bute, when he was in power, used much judgment in the granting of pensions, excepting with regard to Hogarth, Johnson, and Smollett. The last had no regular sum settled on him; but he was engaged to edit "The Briton," a weekly paper, devoted to abusing Pitt and all the popular party.

As for music, both George and his queen were devoted to this branch of art, and encouraged George Frederick Handel to establish an academy for its advancement; but it soon broke up on account of rivalry. Then Handel returned to the continent, and in his native land devoted himself to the production of those noble oratorios that gave him celebrity and wealth.

Many years later, when King George, who delighted in Handel's oratorios, was listening to one of them, a thunderstorm came up. "How sublime!" exclaimed his majesty. "What an accompaniment! How this would have delighted Handel!"

Queen Charlotte excited the ire of some of the court ladies when she issued a decree against the enormous head-dresses that were then in fashion. She was prompted to this not without some provocation; for a dowager-duchess had appeared at a drawing-room with a structure of jewels and feathers a yard and a quarter in height,—almost too ridiculous to be believed. It had become the fashion to pile up the hair to at least half a yard above the head; and this was done by spreading it thinly over pads of wool, tow, or hemp, and sticking it in place with pomatum and other compounds. After this structure had attained the desired proportions, it was finished off with great bunches of flowers and feathers, interspersed with sparkling jewels. But as this was the work of two or three hours, it must not be supposed that it was repeated every day. No, indeed! Once in two or three weeks was considered often enough for brushing and combing; and we shudder to think of what must have been the contents of the puffs that these great ladies carried about so proudly. No history tells how they managed to sleep, or the suffering that such a weight on top of the head must have occasioned, but everybody must agree in considering Queen Charlotte a wise woman for altering such a filthy, silly fashion. To the front wire was attached a string, by which the wearer could draw up her hood or let it fall back at will. It must not be imagined that ladies' heads exceeded their bodies in size; for, to insure symmetry, enormous hoop-skirts, oval in shape, and spreading out suddenly over the hips, were worn, making a slender waist look very wasplike. A long, loose cloak, fastened at the throat, was the outer garment, which, with the hood described above, must have given a woman the appearance of an animated woolsack. These ladies had so much trouble to squeeze themselves in and out of carriages, large and cumbersome though they were, that it was suggested to manufacture them with movable tops, and then, by means of pulleys and ropes, gently raise the wearers of hoops and gigantic head-gear, and lower them into the vehicle, thus avoiding damage to their toilets.

The fashions for the lords of creation were not less ridiculous than those of the women, though different. Many of the rich young men of England had visited Italy, and from that sunny land of the South, they brought back not what was virtuous and sensible, but all the follies and vices that it was possible to imitate. These travellers formed themselves into a club, which, in honor of Italy, they called the "Macaroni Club." They were distinguished by an immense bunch of false hair hanging down the back, the head being surmounted by a tiny cocked hat. A closely-fitting short jacket, waistcoat, and knee-breeches completed the attire, and each Macaroni carried an enormous walking-stick, ornamented with silk cords and tassels. A man thus attired must have presented an exceedingly droll appearance; yet the style became popular, and was even adopted by members of the clergy, whose hats were made, clothing cut, and wigs combed À la macaroni. There were dances, songs, and music, called Macaroni, and nothing was popular that was not sufficiently trifling, showy, and affected to belong to the macaronic class. This manner of dress excited so much ridicule that it was altered before very long, and gave place to a higher style of dressing the hair. Then the beaux wore nosegays on their breasts, large enough to fill a good-sized mantel-vase. Walpole says of the members of the fashionable club, after complaining of a dull winter in politics: "Even our macaronies entertain the town with nothing but new dresses and the size of their nosegays. They have lost all their money, and exhausted all their credit, and can no longer game for twenty thousand pounds a night."

Queen Charlotte's maids-of-honor grumbled a good deal at the changes their mistress instituted in the fashions; but they were ready to mutiny when she made it a rule of her household that they should not be provided with supper. However, a compromise was affected,—their salaries were raised, and each maid-of-honor received a thousand pounds on her marriage as a gift from the queen. This was very benevolent on the part of her majesty, and there are many equally kind, considerate acts told of her. Here is one that she managed very gracefully.

A.D. 1779. In one of the battles off the French coast, near Brest, a mate named William Moore was so desperately wounded in the shoulder and leg by the blowing up of a vessel that it was not supposed he would ever be fit for service again. While he was lying in bed, a kinsman named Ashburner, who often sold dry goods at court, was one day exhibiting his wares to Queen Charlotte, when he adroitly managed to mention the name of Moore, and then related all the circumstances of his hard fate. Her majesty was touched by the story, and told Ashburner to send the mate to Windsor, where she was then living, as soon as he was well enough to travel. Such a command was balm to the wounded man, who, before the lapse of three days, was not only comfortably lodged at the palace, but watched and tended by the queen's own surgeon, and provided with a competent nurse.

It was many weeks before the invalid was cured; but at last he asked permission to thank his royal benefactress, and was admitted to her presence. He faltered out a few awkward sentences, turning red and pale by turns; but ended by assuring her majesty that he was equal to the performance of duty again. "So I hear from the doctor," replied the queen, "and I have spoken about you to the king, and, there, Mr. Moore, is his majesty's acknowledgment for your gallantry and sufferings when afloat." The man took the paper, but wondered why so much was said about the performance of a mere act of duty. "Will you not see what his majesty says, Mr. Moore?" asked the queen, as the man sidled towards the door. He silently obeyed, and, on opening the document, found that he had been promoted to a lieutenancy on board the "Mercury." Some years later Moore became a captain, which proves that Queen Charlotte's charity was judiciously bestowed. The commander of the vessel on which Moore was injured lost his life when it blew up; and for his widow and children her majesty obtained such a liberal pension that they could enjoy not only the comforts, but many of the luxuries of life. These are only a couple of a large number of Queen Charlotte's benevolent deeds.

Few persons interested themselves more to rescue Dr. Dodd from the hands of the executioner than the queen. William Dodd was a popular divine of the Church of England, as well as a voluminous writer. But he committed several errors in the course of his life, which was violently ended because of a check which he forged for a large sum of money on Lord Chesterfield. Queen Charlotte argued that a man occupying the holy office of minister of the Gospel ought not to be punished like a common criminal; but the king replied, that the crime was the more heinous because committed by a clergyman, and declared that the law must take its course.

A.D. 1780. There came a year of riots in London, occasioned by the repeal of certain laws against the Catholics. Queen Charlotte was called upon for the exercise of considerable courage at this period, for she was left almost alone at Buckingham House, with her children, while the mob set the city on fire in several places, and behaved so disgracefully that there was no telling where they would stop. The king, who was hated by a large portion of his subjects, spent two nights at the queen's riding-house with his council, where he was constantly receiving reports of the doings of the rioters. At length it was decided to fire on them, yet the king mercifully hesitated to give the necessary directions to his troops; and even when St. James's Palace was assailed, he ordered the soldiers not to fire if they could possibly help it; but to keep the crowd off with their bayonets. Thus, those of his enemies who pronounced George a stubborn man were bound to acknowledge that he was also a merciful one.

A.D. 1783. Having reached the age of twenty-one, the-Prince of Wales was allotted an establishment of his own at Carlton House, which had been the residence of his grandfather, whom he is said to have resembled in many respects. Then parliament settled upon him a hundred thousand pounds, besides an annual income of fifty thousand. Thus liberally provided for, he devoted himself to a life of indulgence and idleness, and incurred the displeasure of the king, both on account of his vices and his politics. He entered the House of Peers, and in following the lead of the opposition party, imitated the example of the Georges who had preceded him. In spite of his liberal allowance, he got into debt, which his so-called friends solicited the king to pay.

The conduct of their eldest son was a source of much unhappiness to the royal couple. The queen did not lose confidence in him, though she was deeply distressed.

[A. D. 1784.] A year after he went to live at Carlton House his royal sire offered to pay his debts, if the accounts were sent to him. They were sent, but, after being kept for months, they were returned, because they were found to be incorrect,—twenty-five thousand pounds being entered without any explanation as to whom that sum was due. The prince declared it to be a secret of honor, which he would not reveal, and the king, in his turn, declared that he would pay no debt the nature of which his son was ashamed to acknowledge; and there the matter rested.

A.D. 1785. But the following year the prince's debts had increased to such an outrageous amount that he could see no way out of his dilemma excepting in flight. He wanted, as Earl of Chester, to remove to some German court, and there live in retirement, declaring that the king hated him, and would not allow parliament to assist him. The great trouble was, that no confidence existed between George III. and his eldest son, and neither treated the other with fairness. The ministry offered the prince a hundred thousand pounds, provided half the sum might be retained for the payment of his debts; but he pronounced the offer useless, saying that he knew the king would not listen to it, and if Pitt, the minister, were to propose such a measure he would be turned out of office. It was proposed to him to try to conciliate his royal father by ceasing to adhere to a political party in opposition to the government; but he refused to abandon Fox or any of his friends. Then it was proposed that he should marry; and, as he was very much in love with Mrs. Fitzherbert, a lady who had been divorced from a bad husband, he resolved to do so. But this marriage could not be legal for two reasons: first, because Mrs. Fitzherbert was a Catholic; and second, because no prince of the blood was permitted to marry without the king's consent before he had attained the age of twenty-five. So George, Prince of Wales, kept his marriage secret, and even had it denied in parliament, much to his wife's indignation. When the queen heard of

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it she commanded the presence of her son, and, on being assured that he was really married, and to a woman worthy of respect, she consented to receive her. Not only did Queen Charlotte show marked courtesy to Mrs. Fitzherbert, but she did a service for her son in using her influence to have all his debts paid off. Then Carlton House, which had been dull and silent, became once more the scene of gay and brilliant entertainments.

We must now return to the royal couple, and see them pleasantly established at Windsor, though with the king's health far from satisfactory. It was at this period that a remarkable lady entered the queen's service; and, as she was well-known in the literary world, she must be properly introduced. This was Frances Burney, the daughter of a musician of much talent. She was only a little child when her mother died; and, as her father seemed to think that his whole duty consisted in fondling his children and treating them with the kindness and affection his sweet temper prompted, Frances educated herself. Dr. Burney (he had the degree of Doctor of Music from the University of Oxford) really had little time for anything but the lessons he gave, for they sometimes kept him busy from seven in the morning until eleven at night, and he often carried a tin-box of sandwiches, with a bottle of wine and water, for his luncheon, which he would eat in a hack while hurrying from one pupil to another. Two of his daughters were sent to a school in Paris, and one of them taught her little sister, Frances, to write; and before she was fourteen she began to find pleasure in reading. Dr. Burney had a large library, but it contained no novels, and so his daughter's taste was not spoiled by light reading.

The social position of the Burney family was peculiar; for, while the children played with those of the tradespeople in the neighborhood, they had opportunities of seeing some very distinguished people, who were proud to know the doctor. Samuel Johnson was his most intimate friend, and they spent many a long winter evening together. David Garrick often amused the Burney girls with his powers of mimicry, and there were so many other artists and men of letters whom Frances had an opportunity of seeing that it would be tedious to mention all their names.

The very finest musicians of the day visited Dr. Burney, and esteemed him so highly that occasionally he would gather them at his modest little house, and give such a splendid concert that many members of the nobility considered it a privilege to get an invitation. At this time Frances was a shy, awkward girl, who trembled if any of the guests spoke to her. Therefore she was permitted to remain in the background, and, while thus unobserved, she watched people, observed their peculiarities, and analyzed their characters. She had a vivid imagination too, and laid up a store of material for fiction that was of great use to her later.

Frances soon began to write little stories that amused her sisters very much, but were not shown to her father, who knew nothing of their existence. Dr. Burney had an intimate friend named Samuel Crisp, a well-educated, literary man, whose advice was of the utmost benefit to Frances, whom he always called his Fannikin, while she in return called him her dear Daddy. Crisp enjoyed Dr. Burney's concerts; but, when he grew old and gouty, and could no longer attend them, Frances would write him a long account of each one, and of the gay people who attended. These letters were answered, and contained so much instruction about what to read and how to write, that they went far towards the development of "Fannikin's" intellect. The result was that Frances Burney wrote a novel which took the literary world by surprise. Her father wept over it for joy. "Daddy" Crisp shook his fist at Fannikin in affectionate anger for not having confided in him, and everybody began to guess what author could have written "Evelina." When they found out that a reserved, inexperienced young woman had produced the best work of fiction that had appeared in many a day, praises were increased. Frances Burney suddenly found herself famous. Then she wrote another novel, which she called "Cecilia." The publishers paid her two thousand pounds for it, and there never was a book more eagerly snatched from the counters of the booksellers. Frances Burney was now thirty years old; she had literary fame, position and money. What, then, could have induced her to take the steps to which we have alluded,—that of entering the queen's service? It is certainly inexplicable; but this is how it happened:—

Mrs. Delany, a lady of noble birth, having been left a widow, was kindly cared for by King George and Queen Charlotte, who fitted up a house for her in Windsor Park, and settled on her an annuity of three hundred pounds a year. Their majesties frequently visited the old lady, and the young princes and princesses often honored her by their company to tea.

Miss Burney was visiting at Mrs. Delany's house, when, one day after dinner, as the old lady was taking her nap, a stout gentleman entered, unannounced. "What? what? what?" he asked, looking about, as the visitors who had been playing a game scampered out of the room, and a cry of "The King!" was set up. Mrs. Delany came forward to receive her royal guest, and introduced Miss Burney, who was questioned as to what she had written and what she was going to write. The queen soon appeared, and his majesty repeated to her all that the young authoress had said. Miss Burney was charmed with the royal pair, and felt quite at her ease when their visit was repeated a few days later. On that occasion the king expressed his opinion about many English and foreign writers. Voltaire he pronounced a monster, Rousseau he liked better. "But was there ever such stuff as a great part of Shakespeare?" he cried, "only one must not say so. But what think you? What? Is there not sad stuff? What? what?"

Well, one of the keepers of the queen's robes retired about this time, and the position was offered to Miss Burney. She consented, with the advice of her father, to give up writing, to leave a happy home and pleasant associates, to become the companion of an old German woman who was the chief-keeper of the robes and waiting-maid to her majesty. We wonder how Dr. Burney could have consented to allow his daughter to enter upon the five years of drudgery to which she bound herself; but he, poor deluded man, seemed to think that going to court was like going to heaven, and so he actually persuaded her to it; and, after escorting her to her dreary prison, for so it was, went home rejoicing at her marvellous prosperity. It is to the diary that Miss Burney kept while she was waiting-maid to her majesty that we are indebted for an account of the domestic life at court.

She felt very timid the first day she entered upon her office, but Queen Charlotte was exceedingly gracious, and soon placed the new maid at her ease by treating her less like a servant than a friend. Nevertheless, she was glad to escape from the royal presence to dine with the ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting. The meals served for these court attendants were much more enjoyable than those at which their majesties presided, because there was less formality and ceremony. The queen was no longer served by gentlemen who kneeled while offering a dish, but they were never permitted to sit in her presence; no matter how high their rank, and it is easy to understand how uncomfortable they must have felt when forced to eat standing. No wonder the lords, bishops, and officers preferred to dine with the maids-of-honor and ladies-in-waiting, with whom they could enjoy themselves, and at whose sides they might sit while partaking of their meal.

Miss Burney found the dressing of the queen a very formidable matter at first, because the ringing of the bell that summoned her always put her in a flurry at the start. No maid was permitted to remain in the room while the queen was dressing, but they assembled in the ante-chamber, where one handed to the other the various articles as they were required. "'T is fortunate for me," says Miss Burney, "that I have not the handing of them. I should never know which to take first, embarrassed as I am, and should run a prodigious risk of giving the gown before the hoop, and the fan before the neckerchief."

The actual toilet for the day was performed at one o'clock, and concluded with the powdering of the hair, a very important matter, always performed by a regular hairdresser. On his arrival her majesty was covered by a large peignoir, and then left alone with the artist, who flung the powder at the royal head causing a light spray to fall gently on every part of the hair,—standing off to view the effect, applying the puff here and there, and so continuing the operation until the desired effect was produced.

One of Miss Burney's duties consisted in preparing her majesty's snuff-boxes, and dampening the contents to suit the royal nose; for Queen Charlotte was a connoisseur of the article, and took it as regularly as did all the gentlemen and most of the ladies of that period. "On court days," says Miss Burney in her diary, "the queen dresses her head at Kew, and puts on her drawing-room apparel at St. James's. I dress all at Kew except my tippet and long ruffles, which I carry in paper to save from dusty roads." The most rigid etiquette was observed when the royal family were at Windsor. Nobody ever knocked at a door for fear of shocking the royal nerves; a shake of the knob was the only signal allowed to a person desiring to enter. When a birthday occurred, the family walked on the terrace, crowded with people of distinction, who gathered to show respect. One of these scenes is thus described:—

"It was really a mighty pretty procession. The little Princess Amelia, just three years old, in a colored robe, covered with fine muslin, a dressed close cap, white gloves and a fan, walked on alone, turning from side to side to see everybody as she passed, for all the people on the terrace stand up against the walls, to make a clear passage for the royal family, as soon as they come in sight. Then followed the king and queen, no less delighted themselves with the joy of their little darling." Little Amelia was a great pet with her parents, and when she observed Miss Burney among the guests, and actually stopped to kiss her, the breach of etiquette was merely smiled at, though the queen was not pleased; for she only addressed a word to those whom she desired especially to distinguish. So rigid was the court etiquette that no person ever passed a room occupied by the royal family if the door chanced to be open, and the children never spoke in the presence of their parents unless called upon to answer an observation directed to them.

A.D. 1786. But everything was different at Kew, where the absence of restraint formed a striking contrast to the life at Windsor. There the king was called "Farmer George," and there were some odd sketches made by the caricaturists of the day, representing his

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majesty with his wife on his arm, trudging along in true rustic fashion. Some very amusing anecdotes are given of "Farmer George's" visits to the cottages of his neighbors, which were made with the least possible ceremony, and often at most inconvenient periods.

He rode for hours every day, and would poke his nose wherever the fancy happened to take him. Once he was caught in a shower and took shelter in a cottage, where he found a girl roasting a goose. He requested her to go and put his horse under an adjacent shed, which she agreed to do if he would keep the goose from burning during her absence. Presently the girl's father entered, and, though surprised at seeing the occupation of his sovereign, had the good sense not to recognize him. George began to talk to the man about the disadvantage of roasting with a string, and explained how much easier and safer it was to cook with a spit, which required less watching and only occasional basting. At the conclusion of his lecture, he secretly wrote upon a piece of paper "to buy a jack," and enclosed five guineas, which he placed upon the table before his departure.

One day his majesty met a young rustic on the road not far from Windsor Castle. "Who are you, boy?" he asked, attracted by something in his appearance. "Who are you, eh, eh?"

"I be a pig-boy."

"Where did you come from? Who do you work for here, eh?"

"I be from the low country; out of work at present."

"Don't they want lads here; not want lads, eh?"

"I doan't know; all about here belongs to Georgy."

"Georgy! Who's Georgy?"

"He lives at the castle, yonder: but he does no good for I." The king immediately gave the lad employment on his farm, and told him if he were a steady lad, "Georgy" might be a friend to him.

He thus addressed a stable-boy one morning: "Well, boy! What do you do? What do they pay you?"

"I help in the stable, but they only give me victuals and clothes," said the lad. "Be content; I have no more," was the king's reply.

He could be generous, though, on occasion; for two boys who did not know him fell on their knees one day, and asked relief, saying that their mother had been dead three days, and their father was too ill to rise from his bed of straw. The king went with them to their miserable hovel, and, finding that they had not exaggerated their distress, gave them a liberal sum of money, and then went to the castle, whence he sent a plentiful supply of food and clothing. He did more. When the sick father recovered, the boys were educated and provided for at his majesty's expense.

Visiting the stable one morning, King George found the grooms disputing so loudly that his arrival was not noticed.

"I don't care what you say, Robert," said one, in a very loud tone, "but everybody else agrees that the man at the Three Tuns makes the best purl in Windsor."

"Purl! purl!" exclaimed the king. "What's purl, Robert?" The manner of making the beverage was explained to him, and he said, "Very good drink, no doubt; but too strong for breakfast." Five years later, George, who had such a good memory that he knew the names, numbers, and uniform of every regiment in the service, entered the stables, shortly after daylight, one morning, and asked a boy to whom he was unknown, where all the men were. "I don't know, sir, replied the lad; "but they will soon be here, for they expect the king."

"Ah! oh! Then run, boy, to the Three Tuns and say that the king expects them;—to the Three Tuns, boy, d' ye hear? They are sure to be there, for the landlord makes the best purl in Windsor."