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and he seldom lay there above one or two nights in the week."

What sort of visitor this young man was considered by the family, may be supposed, from the dismal fact, that he was hated by every one of them, father and mother not excepted. His sisters openly avowed their contempt for him: the king pronounced him a "puppy," "fool," and "scoundrel:" and the Queen "cursed the hour in which he was born." Even the good-natured minister described him as a "poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying, dishonest, contemptible wretch." Unfeeling levity appears to have been the main point of his character. It is the expression of his face in his portraits. One of his modes of annoying his mother at Kensington, was by coming too late to chapel, and making his

wife, instead of entering by another door, squeeze to her seat, between the Queen and her Majesty's prayer-book. He afterwards, for similar spiteful reasons, hazarded his wife's existence by bringing her from Hampton Court to St. James's, almost in the very instant of child-birth.

Looking out, one day, from a window in Kensington Palace, and seeing title-hunting Bubb Doddington go by, he said, "That man is reckoned one of the most sensible men in England; and yet, with all his cleverness, I have just nicked him out of £5000."

Traits like these made his parents call to mind what an honest governor said of him when he was a boy. The governor complained of some tricks which he had been playing; the mother, not seeing what such

conduct foreshadowed, said, good-naturedly,

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Ah, those are pages' tricks, I conceive." "Pages' tricks!" cried the governor ; "I wish to God, madam, they were. They are tricks of lacqueys and rascals."

The nicker of Bubb Doddington nicked himself, at the age of forty-nine, out of life and a throne, by putting on a thin dress during cold weather, because he felt himself hot with a pleurisy!

If Pope, who had been introduced to this Prince, and who took his part against his mother, had but seen these and other notices of him, the truth of which is now admitted by every body, he never would have said a word against the poor Queen, even though himself had been more injured in her estimation by Hervey's venom, than we have no doubt he

was.

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LORD HERVEY, for the amusement of the Queen, and for the recommendation of himself at the expense of others, wrote a little Kensington drama, called "The Death of Lord Hervey, or a Morning at Court." We extract

from it two or three lively passages, relating to a breakfast, a divine service, and a levee; because in the one, the reader will find himself in company with Queen Caroline, under circumstances characteristic of her manners towards those about her; in the second, a very candid exhibition is made of her indifference for court-chaplains; and in the third, he will see what the royal talk on court-days must, to a certain extent, of necessity, be. Hervey takes insidious advantage of the favour he was in with her Majesty; whose willingness to think the best of her gossiping lord of the Bedchamber would not have been so amused with the thing as she was, could she have seen the Memoir in which she has been preserved for posterity. The simultaneous emphasis with which she divides her emotions between the news of a friend's

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