remarkable; fine weather and great luxury. Riding to the course
on Wednesday, I overtook Adolphus Fitzclarence in the Park, who
rode with me, and gave me an account of his father's habits and
present state of mind. The former are as follows:--He sleeps in
the same room with the Queen, but in a separate bed; at a quarter
before eight every morning his _valet de chambre_ knocks at the
door, and at ten minutes before eight exactly he gets out of bed,
puts on a flannel dressing-gown and trousers, and walks into his
dressing-room. Let who will be there, he never takes the
slightest notice of them till he emerges from this sanctuary,
when, like the _malade imaginaire_, he accosts whoever may be
present with a cheerful aspect. He is long at his ablutions, and
takes up an hour and a half in dressing. At half-past nine he
breakfasts with the Queen, the ladies, and any of his family; he
eats a couple of fingers and drinks a dish of coffee. After
breakfast he reads the 'Times' and 'Morning Post,' commenting
aloud on what he reads in very plain terms, and sometimes they
hear 'That's a damned lie,' or some such remark, without knowing
to what it applies. After breakfast he devotes himself with Sir
Herbert Taylor to business till two, when he lunches (two cutlets
and two glasses of sherry); then he goes out for a drive till
dinner time; at dinner he drinks a bottle of sherry--no other
wine--and eats moderately; he goes to bed soon after eleven. He
is in dreadfully low spirits, and cannot rally at all; the only
interval of pleasure which he has lately had was during the
Devonshire election, when he was delighted at John Russell's
defeat. He abhors all his Ministers, even those whom he used
rather to like formerly, but hates Lord John the most of all.
When Adolphus told him that a dinner ought to be given for the
Ascot races he said, 'You know I cannot give a dinner; I cannot
give any dinners without inviting the Ministers, and I would
rather see the Devil than any one of them in my house.' I asked
him how he was with them in his inevitable official relations. He
said that he had as little to do with them as he could, and bowed
them out when he gave any of them audiences as fast as possible.
He is peculiarly disgusted with Errol, for whom he has done so
much, and who has behaved so ungratefully to him; but it is a
good trait of him that he said 'he hoped the world would not
accuse Errol of ingratitude.' He did not invite Errol to the