ning their lips.
And 'tis very well they are so mute: for were they all as talkative as
people of other nations, the coffee-houses would be intolerable, and there
would be no hearing what one man said where they are so many. The
chocolate-house in St. James's Street, where I go every morning to pass
away the time, is always so full that a man can scarce turn about in it."

Delightful as London city was, King George I liked to be out of it as much
as ever he could; and when there, passed all his time with his Germans. It
was with them as with Bluecher 100 years afterwards, when the bold old
Reiter looked down from St. Paul's, and sighed out, "_Was fuer Plunder!_"
The German women plundered; the German secretaries plundered; the German
cooks and intendants plundered; even Mustapha and Mahomet, the German
negroes, had a share of the booty. Take what you can get, was the old
monarch's maxim. He was not a lofty monarch, certainly: he was not a
patron of the fine arts: but he was not a hypocrite, he was not
revengeful, he was not extravagant. Though a despot in Hanover, he was a
moderate ruler in England. His aim was to leave it to itself as much as
possible, and to live out of it as much as he could. His heart was in
Hanover. When taken ill on his last journey, as he was passing through
Holland, he thrust his livid head out of the coach-window, and gasped out,
"Osnaburg, Osnaburg!" He was more than fifty years of age when he came
amongst us: we took him because we wanted him, because he served our turn;
we laughed at his uncouth German ways, and sneered at him. He took our
loyalty for what it was worth; laid hands on what money he could; kept us
assuredly from Popery and wooden shoes. I, for one, would have been on his
side in those days. Cynical, and selfish, as he was, he was better than a
king out of St. Germains with the French king's orders in his pocket, and
a swarm of Jesuits in his train.

The Fates are supposed to interest themselves about royal personages; and
so this one had omens and prophecies specially regarding him. He was said
to be much disturbed at a prophecy that he should die very soon after his
wife; and sure enough, pallid Death, having seized upon the luckless
princess in her castle of Ahlden, presently pounced upon H.M. King George
I, in his travelling chariot, on the Hanover road. What postilion can
outride that pale horseman? It is said, George promised one of his
left-handed widows to come to her a