As to his ambition, we might apply to him what Swift said of Lord Oxford, that he had as much virtue as could possibly consist with a love of power; and his love of power was no greater than what is common to men of his superior capacity.

Long experience of the secret motives of men, different from those which appeared outwardly on the surface, had made him wary, and he did not easily give either his confidence or his favour to what he called men trained to the world, even though young; much rather, as he professed, to those in whom, from being wholly removed from public life, he confided more than in those who were subservient to him from views of their own: (I mean Manners and Fothergill). He would trust and patronise an absolute tyro as to affairs, or even as to the conventional customs of society, provided he had an ingenuous nature and a well-stored mind. Hence he so easily fell in with what these early friends of his were pleased to propose in regard to me.

As he had originally cultivated philosophy and a love of letters, had he been born in a private or humble station, by his disposition to elegant and liberal studies, he could have made himself sufficiently happy without power. Vacare literis was still a favourite maxim of his, particularly when things went wrong, either through the struggles of rivals, or the efforts of faction, in which case he

was often on the qui vive to abandon place, and live, as he said, for himself.

He had been some time a widower, and during a pretty long marriage, as a husband, he had never ceased to be a lover. He had been left without children, but his house continued to be what it had been in his married life, the resort of elegant society, both male and female; and though perhaps the political predominated, he was never more pleased than when it was extended to the eminent in letters, in science, or in wit.

Such was the person to whose protection I was about to be committed by the kindness of my two friends, and under whose auspices I was now to hazard myself in public life.

My introduction to him was rendered easier by the kindness of Mr. Manners, who accompanied me to town for that purpose; and though when the porter let us into the hall of his magnificent house in Grosvenor-street I felt a little overcome with the power and wealth of the minister, yet, as I felt that I also was a gentleman, and had a heart and a mind, and was conscious of nothing that I had ever done to disgrace them, I walked firmly and erect to the door of the cabinet where Lord Castleton generally passed his mornings.

We were conducted by a messenger in the royal livery, and what struck me was, that we had to go through a long room, where several gentlemen sat

enveloped in papers. Among these I presumed I was myself to take my seat.

The room where we were received was handsomely furnished with crimson hangings, and studded all over with cabinet pictures in rich gilt frames, my lord being a great admirer, and, indeed, patron of painting. A glazed door opened into a small but pretty garden of flowering shrubs, over which the eye took in the trees of Hyde Park, certainly not comparable to the beautiful forest I had left, but which, for London, and my notions of it, was an unexpected pleasure.

I had, however, little leisure for this sort of observation, being absorbed by a very different object, in Lord Castleton himself. When we entered he was sitting alone at his desk, and so intent, that at first he did not hear us; but the messenger announcing Mr. Manners, he immediately rose, and by his cordial reception shewed how much he esteemed that gentleman.

When I was presented, his manner was of course rather more ceremonious, though I should not say it was cold, or even formal. With unaffected grace he shook hands with me, and hoped we should be better acquainted; adding, frankly, that I must be a fortunate man to unite the suffrages of such an old stager of the world as his friend Manners, and such a cloistered scholar as my relation Fothergill. To - do away, however, any appearance of disparage

ment which that might imply to the latter, he inquired after him with interest, and even affection, saying there was no man for whose abilities, integrity, and strong natural sense, he had a greater, if so great, an esteem.

All this seemed purposely meant to put me at my ease in rather a trying situation, and it was only a mark of that tact and kindness united, in which no man exceeded, few equalled, this truly noble person.

After this, he fell upon what he, with the same view, called parish business.

"From what I understand," said he, "Mr. De Clifford, you will have here very different scenes and occupations from what you have been accustomed to; but from what I also hear, this will soon sink to nothing before one of your mind. I trust our connection will be as agreeable to you, as I have no doubt it will be to me. You will, however, have no sinecure, as I dare say Mr. Manners will have told you, and I have the pleasure of believing what I certainly did not of any of your predecessors that you would not like your charge if it were."

He then told me that my scene of action would be principally at the office in Downing-street, though frequently where I was, as he did a great deal of business at home. "And if you please," added he, "I will shew you your den, where I must always have you at my right hand.”

So saying, he opened a pannel door, which led into a small vestibule, on the other side of which was a closet fitted with desks, in which he said I should be installed the next day.

"To-day," said he, "you would no doubt wish to look about you, especially as a stranger to London. You will, however, I hope, with Mr. Manners, dine with me here at six, till when, I am afraid (and he pulled out his watch), I must bid you farewell."

It was evident he had an engagement, and we took our leave; Mr. Manners delighted to find him, as he said, the self-same man he had been for twenty years; I, absolutely charmed with the mixture of high breeding and natural, cheerful bonhommie, which had marked my reception.

Our conversation on this lasted long after we got to our hotel in Hanover-square, and consumed much of the time between that and the hour of dinner.

That dinner was a private one; not a creature besides ourselves. Even the servants were discarded, and each of us had his own dumb-waiter by his side; Lord Castleton having an extra one for the wine, over which he presided, helping us as we wished.

I was a little surprised at a privacy so unexpected, at the house of a nobleman and minister of state; but as I had already learned a maxim that it was ill breeding to shew surprise at any thing, I