Mr. Raikes has left us a sketch of Brighton on a race-morning during the Regency: when Lord Foley and Colonel Mellish, surrounded by the "legs" and sporting-men, had begun their betting on the Steyne, the Prince would appear, with his high-bred manner, in the crowd. wearing a green jacket and white hat, light-nankeen pantaloons, and shoes. He was generally accompanied by the Duke of Bedford, Lord Jersey, Charles Wyndham, Shelley, Brummel, M. Day, Churchill, and the little old Jew Travis (a money-lender?). Soon after this the Prince's German barouche drawn by six black-legged bays, and driven by Sir John Lade (the spendthrift whose coming-of-age follies Dr. Johnson ridiculed in sarcastic verse), would glide out of the gates of the Pavilion, and take the Prince up the green slope to the Grand Stand.

We have already exhausted almost all that can be said for this evil man, this heartless betrayer of loving women, this faithless friend, this foolish, this deceitful king, who drank, gambled, ran into debt, and encouraged half the noblemen of his day to do the same. He could drink six bottles of claret at a sitting; he could spend 10,000l. a-year on clothes. All his life he gave way to hysterical fits of sentiment, especially when trying to win a new mistress to his harem. Canning had an interview once with him and won him over, when he had taken to his bed, and was blubbering and being let blood in a dark room, because the Marchioness of Conyngham had shown some symptoms of affection for a former lover who had returned from abroad. Canning, with consummate tact, won the King for ever by sending off the intrusive lover to some distant and very unhealthy foreign station. When Mrs. Fitzherbert first went abroad and left him, the Prince went down to the Foxes, at St. Ann's, cried by the hour, rolled on the floor, beat his head, tore his curly light hair, fell into hysterics, and swore he would forego the crown, sell his jewels, and fly with Mrs. Fitzherbert to America.

When his father's mind began to fail, and he was delirious one day at dinner, the Prince is said to have burst into tears; but not many weeks after, he was seen listening at the King's bedroom-door, collecting proofs of his insanity. At the public service in 1789, when the King went to St. Paul's to return thanks to God for his recovery, his son's conduct in the cathedral shocked and disgusted all who witnessed it: and on the return of the procession, when the Guards had fired a feude-joie opposite Buckingham House, the Prince tried to lead off part of the mob. He constantly insulted the Queen, of whose power he was jealous, and kept away all persons over whom he had any influence from the congratulatory balls at which she was present.

It is no place here to detail the cruel wrongs the heartless and cunning husband heaped on the coarse-minded, high-spirited, reckless, and latterly, we fear, abandoned woman, whom he married in order to pay his debts.

When that unhappy lady arrived, the Prince was already married

to Mrs. Fitzherbert; and his mistress, Lady Jersey, who resided in the palace, was sent to meet his bride-elect. We need not here recapitulate with what cruel malignity he and his spies pursued her, exaggerating every action, and driving her to despair. There is at least one satisfaction to be derived from the miserable affair, and that is that the Queen and her factious party worried and tormented George for many years, and proved to him his unpopularity. He too, at least, had one satisfaction-that the repulse of the Queen from the doors of Westminster Abbey, on the day of the coronation, by Jackson's band of prizefighters, caused her death ten or twelve days afterwards.

The King scarcely ever forgot an injury. In spite of the JockeyClub's apology, he never ran his horses again at Newmarket after the Escape escapade. He never liked Prince Leopold after his visiting Queen Caroline. He kept back Brougham and Denman as long as he could, because they had defended an injured and unfortunate woman. He never honoured the City with a visit after being hissed and threatened on his way to the Guildhall with the Allies in 1814. He never liked Rossini or his music after that clever composer declined to repeat a piece of his music at a court-concert. In fact, he was all his life a great, selfish, spoilt child-too narrow-minded and obstinate to forgive or forget even a small injury. Once when Sir Thomas Lawrence politely and tacitly refused to give him an original sketch of the unfortunate Duke of Reichstadt, by presenting the King with a careful copy, the King petulantly scratched and tore it, in a passion as irrational as it was unbecoming.

Let us show this miserable monarch at two periods of his life. At the first court-ball, we see the handsome well-formed youth dressed in a pink-silk coat with white cuffs, a white waistcoat embroidered with coloured foil and French paste. His hat, cocked in the military way, was decorated with five thousand beads, and a steel button and cross. At the close of his life we see the King living with the seclusion of an Eastern tyrant. The Windsor cottage was surrounded with trees, and no one was allowed to trespass on his thirty miles of drives. If he ever crossed the Frogmore road, some of the suite were sent forward to observe if anyone was passing; and if there was anyone near, the King instantly altered his course.

The

The year the Prince went to live at Carlton House, the state-room was hung with figured lemon-coloured satin, and the ceiling ornamented with allegorical paintings. Later, the armoury, which occupied four rooms, was adorned by the golden throne of the King of Candy. plate-room (containing the remains of King Charles's plate) held the finest collection in Europe. The conservatory was sham Gothic, in imitation of Henry VII.'s Chapel, to which even many enlightened people of the beginning of this century infinitely preferred it. Carlton House the Prince at one time intended to form part of a great architectural design, of which Regent-street and Regent's Park were parts.

BUCKINGHAM PALACE.

Buckingham Palace was originally Buckingham House, built by a Fleming for that Duke of Buckingham who patronised Dryden. It was rebuilt in 1703 (Queen Anne). Defoe describes it with great unction, as having a delicious prospect. In the centre of the courtyard was a fountain, in the basin of which stood figures of Neptune and the Tritons. On the park-front was this inscription:

The Duke himself has left a pleasant account of his palace. He describes the terrace, leading to a large entrance-hall covered with pictures of the Raphael school. Under the windows of his study, he says, "there is a little wilderness full of blackbirds and nightingales. The trees, though planted by myself, already require lopping, to prevent their hindering the view of that fine canal in the park. After all this," he says, writing to the Duke of Shrewsbury, "to a friend I'll expose my weakness as an instance of the mind's unquietness under the most pleasing enjoyments. I am oftener missing a pretty gallery in the old house I pulled down than pleased with a salon which I built in its stead, though a thousand times better in all manner of respects."

The Duke died in 1721, and in 1723 the Prince and Princess of Wales (afterwards George II. and Queen Caroline) were in treaty with his widow for the purchase of the country-house of the poor Duke. The Duchess, a proud, violent, half-crazed woman, fought for her bargain bravely. She wanted 60,000l. for it, or 3,000l. a-year for the house ready-furnished.

This was the Duchess who, on the anniversary of her grandfather's (Charles I.) execution, received Lord Hervey in her great drawingroom, seated in a chair of state, and in deep mourning, attended by her women (also in black), out of respect to the "royal martyr." She finally left the house to Lord Hervey (the "Sporus" of Pope), who did not, however, live to take possession of it. In 1761 it was bought of Sir Charles Sheffield by George III. for 21,000l., and in 1775 settled on Queen Charlotte, instead of Somerset House, by act of parliament. It then became known as the "Queen's House," and was the King's townresidence, and here all his children, except George IV., were born.