words, in case he spoke in a low voice: to her horror she saw that he was dead. The nation bore the loss of George II. with a very praiseworthy equanimity; and the court-poets and court-preachers instantly arranged him a niche among the demi-gods, and then turned, after their manner, to lick the shoes of the young King. Le Roi est mort; vive le Roi!

George III. lived but little at St. James's, having soon after his marriage purchased Buckingham House, and living much in the country, -at Kew, Richmond, and latterly Windsor,-where he could enjoy his farming, chat with everyone he met, and pursue the even tenor of his dull, decorous life. There are, nevertheless, numerous events that connect the memory of this worthy but unlucky monarch with the Palace of St. James's.

He always rose early, sometimes at six, and devoted the two hours after breakfast to turning or reading. He then rode out for several hours, being especially anxious to avoid the excessive corpulence hereditary in his family; moreover, being rather weak in the knees, he looked best on horseback. He frequently rode from Kew on his hack, even in heavy rain, to attend a levee or council at St. James's; and at reviews, in which he delighted, he would ride for several hours without a greatcoat, and often bare-headed. For many years he hunted regularly, like the hearty, dull country gentleman that he was. He generally dined alone, and very frugally, obeying the advice of his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, who had warned him against over-eating. He partook only of the plainest food, and in small quantities-a leg of mutton with caper-sauce was his favourite dish; he was fond of cheese-cakes, and insisted on a cherry-pie every day in the year. Even in eating he had not an original mind; he drank but little, and generally wineand-water. The master cook always attended at the King's dinnertable, and tasted every dish (according to the old feudal precaution) before it was removed by the pages-in-waiting. The royal children were denied all delicacies, and fed as much as possible on oatmeal-porridge; a restraint which naturally made the Duke of York a glutton, and the Prince of Wales an epicure. The supper at the palace was set on the table merely as a form; and the maids-of-honour for years went to bed supperless.

Later in life, at Windsor, the King rose at half-past seven o'clock, and at once proceeded to the Queen's saloon, where one of the Princesses would meet him. They then went to the chapel and attended the service, which usually lasted an hour. At nine o'clock the King breakfasted with the Queen and the five Princesses, in the Queen's breakfast-room, commanding a view of the Little Park. The meal occupied about half-an-hour. The King and Queen sat at the head of the table, and the Princesses according to seniority. The King read the newspaper at that time, like any ordinary man; but the strictest etiquette was observed, Queen Charlotte being very hard and merciless

about such trifles, though considerate and kindly withal. After breakfast the King rode out with his equerries and the Princesses.

If the weather was stormy, the King played at chess with General Fitzroy or General Manners, and was particularly delighted if he beat his opponent. He dined regularly at two o'clock; the Princesses at four at five the King visited his wife and daughters. After this hour the King transacted public business in his own study, attended by Colonel Taylor, his private secretary. The evening was passed at cards in the Queen's drawing-room, where three tables were always set; the nobility of the neighbourhood being often invited to these monotonous and frugal entertainments. The moment the castle-clock struck ten the visitors retired. The supper was then coldly set out, as a matter of form, but no one partook of it. The King and Queen retired at eleven o'clock, summer or winter.

It was always said that Prince Frederick had disliked George, and petted his second son, Edward. He seems to have prepared for a rupture between them, had he lived; for once, when embracing him, in 1751, he said to the quiet boy, "Come, George, let us be good friends while we are suffered to be so." George was very backward as a boy, and, Walpole says, could not read English at eleven. His mother described him as honest, but reserved, and childish for his age. His grandfather spoke of him with contempt, like a wicked old heathen that he was, and described him as "only fit to read the Bible to his mother." It was his mother's constant saying, "George, be King," that nourished his natural obstinacy, and made him determined not to be ruled by his ministers.

In 1761, when the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz arrived to become the wife of the young King, she wore a fly-cap with rich lace lappets, a diamond-spangled stomacher, and a goldbrocade "suite" with a white ground. At Mile-end the Life Guards met her, and escorted her to St. James's. When she caught the first glimpse of the palace, she turned pale. The Duchess of Hamilton smiled; but the Princess said, "My dear Duchess, you may laugh, for you have been married twice; but it is no joke to me." Her lips trembled as the coach stopped; but when the Duke of York gave her his hand, she jumped out cheerfully. The King raised her up and saluted her, just as she was about to drop on her knee and curtsy homage to him. The King had fallen in love with her from a letter she had written to the King of Prussia to avert the ravages of the soldiers from the country of Mecklenburg. It is said that at the first glance George shrank back disappointed from the excellent but rather plain young German lady. He had no cause to shrink, however; for she proved a good and devoted wife, and, till the children turned out so badly, they were the happiest of decorous couples.

The next Sunday they appeared in public at the Chapel Royal, and on Monday went in chairs to Drury-lane Theatre, the Queen having

never before seen a play. The King and Queen also went to the coronation from St. James's in chairs. On his return from the Abbey the most valuable diamond fell out of the King's crown; that fall was an omen: the diamond that fell was America.

In 1769 the illegal proceeding against Wilkes, and the disgraceful interference of the court with the Middlesex election, had rendered the King hateful to the people. During one of the most savage of the riots, a hearse hung with black was driven madly into the courtyard of St. James's, amid the yells and execrations of the crowd, with a ruffian on the box dressed as an executioner, and ferociously brandishing an axe. The mob was in no humour to bear a second Charles I. The King, always firm and royally brave, betrayed no alarm; but soon after, when the ministers hesitated about hanging some Bethnal-Green rioters who had sacked a house, he insisted on instantly signing the death

warrants.

During the Gordon riots, when there were 4000 troops posted round Buckingham House, the King sat up for two nights, receiving reports and issuing orders. When the mob tried to force St. James's, he forbade the soldiers to fire, but ordered them to keep back the crowd by levelling their bayonets. The mob, seeing this, were so daring as to seize the bayonets and shake them, to try and force a passage.

In 1795, the King grew even still more unpopular. The people groaned under the weight of taxes, and wearied of the unsuccessful struggle with the irresistible genius of Napoleon. On the 29th of October, as the King went to Parliament, but few hats were pulled off, and the people shouted, "Give us bread!" "No war!" "No king!" A shot was fired through the coach-window in the narrowest part of St. Margaret-street. On the return to St. James's, stones were thrown into the coach; and the mob tried to break down Storey's-gate with sledge-hammers. On its way to the mews the royal carriage was nearly demolished. An hour or two afterwards, the King rashly setting out without escort from St. James's to go to Buckingham House, the mob surrounded the carriage and tried to force the door. A burly Irish gentleman drew a brace of pistols from his pocket, and cleared a way back for the carriage. For this service the King, knowing his own value, rewarded his defender with an office worth 6507. a-year.

With all his mental short-sightedness, and his love of absolute power, George III. was more accessible than any of his successors have been. He strolled into shops; he talked to pig-boys and haymakers; he entered cottages, and attended to the cooking of ploughmen's roastmeat. He liked to take tea with Mrs. Delany. He petted Eton boys. He even condescended to give audience to literary men; confusing Dr. Johnson with endless questions, and Beattie with irrelevancies of all kinds. Great English authors have not had many audiences since that day. He sometimes stood sponsor for the children of favourite noblemen of orthodox political opinions. Royalty has railed itself in

since those days, and the restrictions of feudalism have come again upon us in these democratic days that ignore divine right.

George III. had not a large mind, and was rather mean in his small economies. He lost us America by his senseless obstinacy. He trained George IV. to be a scourge of England by the unwise severities and dreary platitudes of his court. But he was well-intentioned, social, and fond of appearing among his subjects. He was charitable and respectable; and he set a good example. He was affable even to the loss of dignity. Let us not dwell at length on his melancholy old age, his blindness, his loss of reason, or the ingratitude of some among his sons. He acted up to his lights, and our only prayer is that may we never have a worse King to reign over England.

*

* On the occasion of a great fire in the City, which destroyed or injured one hundred houses, the King contributed 1000l. to a subscription made for the relief of the uninsured sufferers-a third of the total amount subscribed; and this is only one of several instances of open-handed charity on the part of simple farmer George. Nor was he unmindful of less creditable claims upon his private purse. The Conductor of this Magazine was, when a child, the occasional guest of an elderly gentleman who bore a Corsican-brother-like resemblance to the late Duke of York. He was the reputed son of parents of respectable position; but some time before coming of age, he was informed that 60,0007, had been placed to his credit at a certain bank.-ED, BELGRAVIA,

EXPLANATION.-The critical contempt for all stories of a sensational character has of late become a fact so notorious, that the Conductor of this Magazine would be wanting in deference to those great Teachers who preside over the Literary Journals of this country, if she failed to recognise the necessity for an immediate reform in the class of fiction provided for the indulgent readers of BELGRAVIA. She is thus compelled to consider the sensational element in fiction as an entirely modern innovation, devised by ignorant and reckless writers, whose only hope of creating interest lies in the employment of those exceptional situations which should properly be excluded from all romance. She has therefore intrusted to the writer the task of providing a series of short stories, conscientiously adapted from those models, so often referred to by critics, as the highest exemplars of art, the works of the dramatists and epic poets of ancient Greece, and modernised in accordance with the prevailing tastes of the novel-reading public. The writer's deviations from the original construction of each legend will be only such as the subject necessitates; and he will exercise no greater license in his treatment of modern history than is accorded to the Romancist. In some cases the supernatural element of a story will be interpreted after the fashion of the German critics, by the aid of natural phenomena; while in other cases, a perilous situation will be altered and adapted after the manner in which our dexterous English playwrights contrive to smooth away the little difficulties in a comedy by Sardou, or a drama by Dumas fils. In compliment to the Eponymous chief of the circulating library, these stories will be entitled "The Mudie Classics."

No. I.

Sir Alk Meyonn, or the Seben against the Elector.

(Adapted from the "Thebais" and the " Alemaonis.")

IN TWO PARTS: PART I.

It was early in the August of that memorable year which beheld the last struggle of hereditary right, and the last glories of the Stuart race. The landing of the seven men of Moidart and their bold young leader was scarcely known at the Court of St. James's; but the tidings of the young chief's coming had thrilled through the hearts of the wild sons of Scotia's wild hills, inspiring as the shrill cry of pibroch or the clash of claymore.

One by one the chiefs had come to offer their lives to this "tall youth of agreeable aspect," who claimed to be heir-apparent to the crown of Britain, that crown with which a disloyal faction had invested a foreign usurper. At first the highland chieftains had been somewhat loth to risk life and goods upon so hazardous an enterprise. Macdonald of Kinloch Moidart had been deaf to the prayers, the arguments, the commands of that royal adventurer whom he believed to be