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an artificial greatness; but his passion for fame and the grandeur of his ideas compensated for his defects. He aspired to redeem the honour of his country, and to place it in a point of giving law to nations. His ambition was to be the most illustrious man of the first country in Europe ; and he thought that the eminence of glory could not be sullied, by the steps to it being passed irregularly. He wished to aggrandize Britain in general, but thought not of obliging or benefiting indi. viduals. Lord Granville you loved till you knew him; Sir Robert Walpole, the more you knew him: you would have loved the duke, if you had not feared him. Pitt liked the dignity of despotism; Lord Mansfield the reality: yet the latter would have served the cause of power, without sharing it: Pitt would have set the world free, if he might not command it. Lord Granville would have preferred doing right, if he had not thought it more convenient to do wrong: Sir Robert Walpole meaned to serve mankind, though he knew how little they deserved it—and this principle is at once the most meritorious in one's self and to the world.”

One of the most amusing personages of that day was the facetious George Bubb, who afterwards added to his name the more lofty-sounding one of Doddington, with the agreeable appendage of a suitable estate. Before this event took place, he had complained to Lord Chesterfield of his name carrying with it an idea of insignificance, on account of its shortness, and continued, that he had serious thoughts of changing it for a longer:"you might lengthen your own," replied his lordship, “by calling yourself Silly Bubb."

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“Soon after the arrival,” says Lord Orford, "of Frederick Prince of Wales in England, Doddington became a favourite, and submitted to the prince's childish horse-play, being once rolled up in a blanket, and trundled down stairs; nor was he negligent in paying more solid court, by lending his royal highness money. He was, however, supplanted, I think, by George, afterwards Lord Lyttleton, and again became a courtier and placeman at St. James's; but once more reverted to the prince at the period where his Diary commences. Pope was not the only poet who diverted the town at Doddington's expense. Sir Charles Hanbury ridiculed him in a well-known dialogue with Gyles Earle, and in a ballad entitled " A Grub upon Bubb.” Dr. Young, on the contrary, who was patronized by him, has dedicated to him one of bis satires on the love of fame, as Lyttleton had inscribed one of his cantos on the progress of love. Glover, and that prostitute fellow Ralph, were also countenanced by him, as the Diary shows.

“ Doddington's own wit was very ready. I will mention two instances. Lord Sundon was commissioner of the Treasury with him and Winnington, and was very dull. One Thursday, as they left the board, Lord Sundon laughed heartily at something Doddington said; and when gone, Winnington said, • Doddington, you are very ungrateful; you call Sundon stupid and slow, and yet you see how quick he took what you said. “Oh no,' replied Doddington, he was only laughing now at what I said last treasury day.'—Mr. Trenchard, a neighbour, telling him, that though his pinery was expensive, he contrived, by applying the fire and the dung to other purposes, to make it so advantageous, that he believed he got a shilling by every pine-apple he ate.' 'Sir,' said Doddington, ‘I would eat them for half the money! Doddington was married to a Mrs. Behan, whom he was supposed to keep. Though secretly married, he could not own her, as he then did, till the death of Mrs. Strawbridge, to whom he had given a promise of marriage, under the penalty of ten thousand pounds. He had long made love to the latter, and, at last, obtaining an assignation, found her lying on a couch. However, he only fell on his knees, and after kissing her hand for some time, cried out, “Oh that I had you but in a wood!' • In a wood!' exclaimed the disappointed dame ; .What would you do then? Would you rob me?' It was on this Mrs. Strawbridge that was made the ballad

‘My Strawberry—my strawberry

shall bear away the bell.' To the burden and tune of which Lord Bath many years afterwards wrote his song onStrawberry-hill.'

“ Doddington had no children. His estate descended to Lord Temple whom he hated, as he did Lord Chatham, against whom he wrote a pamphlet to expose the expedition to Rochfort.

· Nothing was more glaring in Doddington than his want of taste, and the tawdry ostentation in his dress and furniture of his houses. At Eastberry, in the great bed-chamber, hung with the richest red velvet, was pasted, on every pannel of the velvet, his crest (a hunting horn supported by an eagle) cut out of gilt leather. The foot-cloth round the bed was a mosaic of the pocket-flaps and cuffs of all his embroidered clothes. At Hammersmith his crest, in pebbles, was stuck into the centre of the turf before his door. The chimney-piece was hung with spars representing icicles round the fire, and a bed of purple, lined with orange, was crowned by a dome of peacock's feathers. The great gallery, to which was a beautiful door of white marble, supported by two columns of lapis lazuli, was not only filled with busts and statues, but had, I think, an inlaid floor of marble: and all this weight was above stairs.

“One day showing it to Edward, Duke of York, Doddington said, 'Sir, some persons tell me that this room ought to be on the ground.' Be easy, Mr. Doddington,' replied the prince, it will soon be there.'

“Doddington was very lethargic: falling asleep one day, after dinner, with Sir Richard Temple, Lord Cobham, the general, the latter reproached Doddington with his drowsiness; Doddington denied having been asleep, and to prove he had not, offered to repeat all Lord Cobham had been saying. Cobham challenged him to do so. Doddington repeated a story, and Lord Cobham owned he had been telling it. Well,' said Doddington, and yet I did not hear a word of it; but I went to sleep because I knew that about this time of day you would tell that story.”

Lord Waldegrave has said in his Memoirs, that those who could lift the veil from the privacy of royalty, would not envy its hours of retirement; and the picture he has drawn of the independence of George the Second and the pleasures of his court is reflected in these pages, in colours that offer no temptation to the eye to dwell

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it. So little had the king to consult his own inclinations, that for two years he was unable even to promote Dr. Thomas, the preceptor of his grandson, to the preferment he wished; and when General Ligonier offered him the nomination to a living in his gift, he warmly thanked him, expressing the utmost joy and gratitude, and saying, “There is one I have long tried to make a prebendary, but my ministers never would give me an opportunity; I am much obliged to you; I will give the living to him.” (Vol. 1. p. 255.) To show, however, that the walls of a palace may occasionally immure characters of as many virtues as few enjoyments, we will close these extracts with the following account of the Princess Caroline, the King's third daughter, who died December 28th, 1757.

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“She had been the favourite of the Queen, who preferred her understanding to those of all her other daughters, and whose partiality she returned with duty, gratitude, affection, and concern. Being in ill health at the time of her mother's death, the Queen told her she would follow her in less than a year. The princess received the notice as a prophecy; and though she lived many years after it had proved a vain one, she quitted the world, and persevered in the closest retreat, and in constant and religious preparation for the grave; a moment she so eagerly desired, that when something was once proposed to her, to which she was averse, she said, 'I would not do it to die! To this impression of melancholy had contributed the loss of Lord Hervey, for whom she had conceived an unalterable passion, constantly marked afterwards by all kind and generous offices to his children. For many years she was totally an invalid, and shut herself up in two chambers in the inner part of St. James's, from whence she could not see a single object. In this monastic retirement, with no company but of the King, the Duke, Princess Emily, and a few of the most intimate of the court, she led, not an unblameable life only, but a meritorious one: her whole income was dispensed between generosity and charity; and, till her death by shutting up the current discovered the source, the jails of London did not suspect that the best support of their wretched inhabitants was issued from the palace.

“From the last Sunday to the Wednesday on which she died, she declined see. ing her family; and when the mortification began, and the pain ceased, she said, I feared I should not have died of this !'"

THE FIRST OF MARCH.

Tas bud is in the bough and the leaf is in the bud,
And Earth's beginning now in her veins to feel the blood,
Which, warm’d by summer suns in th'alembic of the vine,
From her founts will overrun in a ruddy gush of wine.
The perfume and the bloom that shall decorate the flower,
Are quickening in the gloom of their subterranean bower;
And the juices meant to feed trees, vegetables, fruits,
Unerringly proceed to their preappointed roots.
How awful the thought of the wonders under ground,
Qf the mystic changes wrought in the silent, dark profound,
How each thing upward tends by necessity decreed,
And the world's support depends on the shooting of a seed.
The Summer's in her ark, and this sunny-pinion'd day
Is commission'd to remark whether Winter holds her sway;
Go back, thou dove of peace, with the myrtle on thy wing,
Say that floods and tempests cease, and the world is ripe for Spring.
Thou hast fann'd the sleeping Earth till her dreams are all of flowers,
And the waters look in mirth for their overhanging bowers;
The forest seems to listen for the rustle of its leaves,
And the very skies to glisten in the hope of summer eves,
Thy vivifying spell has been felt beneath the wave,
By the dormouse in its cell, and the mole within its cave,
And the summer tribes that creep or in air expand their wing,
Have started from their sleep at the summons of the Spring.
The cattle lift their voices from the valleys and the hills,
And the feather'd race rejoices with a gush of tuneful bills;
And if this cloudless archofills the poet's song with glee,
O thou sunny first of March, be it dedicate to thee.

H. CAMPAIGNS OF A CORNET.NO. I.

The many valiant names with which our pedigree was enriched, commencing with Ezekiel Thunder, adjutant in the Parliamentary army, who fell at Cropready Bridge, and terminating with Captain John Thunder, who died of the cholera morbus in the campaign against Tippoo Saib, together with the warlike effigies of many a “ Captain or colonel, or knight in arms,” that filled an old lumber-room in my

father's house, had early inspired me with an inclination for a military life. Eleven hundred pounds procured me a cornetcy. During the meridian of my martial ardour, one fine summer evening, a letter of very portentous dimensions was put into my hands. My eye immediately caught the authoritative words—“On his Majesty's service”“ Commander-in-chief's office ;” and breaking the large official seal with eagerness, I read as follows : “ Sir, I have the honour to inform you, that his Royal Highness the Prince Regent has been pleased to appoint you to a cornetcy in the regiment of dragoons, and I am directed by the Commander-in-chief to order you to proceed without delay to Portsmouth, with your horses, to join a detachment of your regiment, under the command of Captain Baron Holster, in order to embark for the army under the command of his excellency Lieut.-General the Earl of Wellington. On your reaching Portsmouth, you will be pleased to report your arrival to the Adjutant-general on that station. I have the honour to be, &c. &c.” “ To Cornet Julius Wood Thunder, —Hall, Northamptonshire.”

After bidding a hasty adieu, and receiving the usual cautions against the dangers of my new situation, I hastened to London to purchase my paraphernalia and equipments, and in about a week's time from the receipt of my orders I arrived at Portsmouth. I was informed by the adjutant-general, to whom I made the usual report, that the detachment of my regiment was then in a neighbouring village, where I must immediately join it. I proceeded instantly to the quarters of the commanding officer, at the Spread Eagle inn, where, without delay, I was ushered into the presence of Captain Baron Holster. It was about eight o'clock on a July evening, and the captain was in the full enjoyment of all the delights which a pipe and a bottle can bestow. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he arose on my entrance, and received me with great courtesy. As usual with military men, we soon became intimate : I speedily fathomed my companion's character. He might truly be called a soldier of fortune, for money seemed his great object, and profit and glory were in his vocabulary synonymous. Mars and Venus appeared to exercise a joint dominion over him, "both them he served, and of their train was he.”

We were engaged the whole of the ensuing day in the embarkation of our horses. Surely some better mode might be discovered than swinging the noble animals in the air by ropes and pullies, to their infinite terror. It was surprising that no accident happened. We rode that night at anchor at Spithead, with the wooden walls of Old England all around us. At daybreak the next morning, convoy signals were hoisted on board a frigate, for all ships proceeding with our convoy to prepare for sea. It was nearly noon before all the vessels were under

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weigh, and we shaped our course through the beautiful passage of the Needles, between the Isle of Wight and the main-land. Before dusk we could but imperfectly distinguish the cliffs of Albion, which ere morning had entirely disappeared. As usual in such cases, I suffered all the extremities of sea-sickness, which vanquished even the bravest of us all. Our accommodations and provisions were tolerable, sidering our situation; and notwithstanding the dull monotony of sky and ocean, the novelty of a sea-voyage furnished us with considerable amusement.

On the fourth day after leaving Spithead, to the infinite joy of all on board, we discovered the mountains of Spain, at the distance of eighty miles, according to the captain's information. It was, however, four days afterwards ere our feet touched the Spanish soil. As we approached the shore, every eye was strained to discover the flag which floated on the summit of the sea-girt castle of St. Sebastian. Although we could not immediately distinguish whether the Gallic standard still maintained its lofty station, yet the constant cannonading which we heard, and the volumes of sinoke which the land-breeze wafted towards us, gave us hope that we were not yet too late to share in the glories of the capture of the castle of St. Sebastian. On the morning of the day on which our convoy left us, the cannonading entirely ceased; but we still observed the tri-coloured flag waving above the battlements, when in one moment the flag-staff appeared perfectly bare, and in another, it was replaced by the British standard. One shout of exultation burst from the different vessels which were within view of this triumphant spectacle ; but I must confess that my own patriotic feelings were dashed with a tinge of regret; for, heavy dragoon as I was, I had set my heart on being the first to drag down this pestilential ensign from its " bad eminence,” and bearing it home, to hang in dread remembrance of my valour-fit companion for the fillebig which my great grandfather won from “a naked Pict,” at the battle of Prestonpans, and the cannon-ball which my maternal uncle carried away with him from the siege of Quebec.

The signal was made by the commodore on the morning of his leaving us, for the masters of the transports to proceed on board his ship, where they received orders to land the troops at Passages, but to anchor in the bay of St. Sebastian's, or, to use his own phrase, " to bring up in four-fathom water," until the harbour was clear. We anchored about two o'clock in the afternoon, and the officers immediately proceeded on shore. The town and castle of St Sebastian are nearly surrounded by water, connected by a narrow isthmus with the mainland. The bay lies to the west of the town, and in the midst of it rises the beautiful island of Santa Clara. The first attack on the town was made by our batteries, formed on the sand-banks, to the east of the place. After dislodging the enemy from a convent on the shore, which formed a sort of out-post to the town, and from their position in the island, our batteries on sea and land had played upon the castle and town from all sides; and after having been twice stormed, the town had at last vielded.

As we stepped upon shore, we found ourselves in a new world. The contrast between the people we had left, and those by whom we were now surrounded, was most striking. The quay was covered with

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