fter death, if leave were granted to
him to revisit the glimpses of the moon; and soon after his demise, a
great raven actually flying or hopping in at the Duchess of Kendal's
window at Twickenham, she chose to imagine the king's spirit inhabited
these plumes, and took special care of her sable visitor. Affecting
metempsychosis--funereal royal bird! How pathetic is the idea of the
duchess weeping over it! When this chaste addition to our English
aristocracy died, all her jewels, her plate, her plunder went over to her
relations in Hanover. I wonder whether her heirs took the bird, and
whether it is still flapping its wings over Herrenhausen?

The days are over in England of that strange religion of king-worship,
when priests flattered princes in the Temple of God; when servility was
held to be ennobling duty; when beauty and youth tried eagerly for royal
favour; and woman's shame was held to be no dishonour. Mended morals and
mended manners in Courts and people, are among the priceless consequences
of the freedom which George I came to rescue and secure. He kept his
compact with his English subjects; and if he escaped no more than other
men and monarchs from the vices of his age, at least we may thank him for
preserving and transmitting the liberties of ours. In our free air, royal
and humble homes have alike been purified; and Truth, the birthright of
high and low among us, which quite fearlessly judges our greatest
personages, can only speak of them now in words of respect and regard.
There are stains in the portrait of the first George, and traits in it
which none of us need admire; but, among the nobler features are justice,
courage, moderation--and these we may recognize ere we turn the picture to
the wall.

George The Second

On the afternoon of the 14th of June, 1727, two horsemen might have been
perceived galloping along the road from Chelsea to Richmond. The foremost,
cased in the jackboots of the period, was a broad-faced, jolly-looking,
and very corpulent cavalier; but, by the manner in which he urged his
horse, you might see that he was a bold as well as a skilful rider.
Indeed, no man loved sport better; and in the hunting-fields of Norfolk,
no squire rode more boldly after the fox, or cheered Ringwood and
Sweettips more lustily, than he who now thundered over the Richmond road.

He speedily reached Richmond Lodge, and asked to see the owner of the
mansion. The mistress of the house and her ladies,