resentation, for none of the embassy speak French."

"That sounds very formal and regular," said I, with deep gravity.

"So I think it, too," said his Excellency, who really was impressed by
the state-coach of Sheriff Timothy and three footmen in bag-wigs.
"At any rate," said he, "we must decide at once, and there can be no
hesitation about the matter. I suppose we must give them an audience of
the Crown Prince, and then let all rest till his Majesty returns, which
he will do on Friday next."

Without compromising myself by any assent, I looked as if he had spoken
very wisely, and his Excellency departed.

That same afternoon two state-carriages of the court, with servants
in dress livery, drew up at the Hof von London, the hotel where the
deputation had taken up their quarters, and a _Marechal de Cour_
alighted to inform the "Irish ambassador" that his Royal Highness the
Crown Prince would receive their homage in the absence of the King.
The intimation, more conveyed by pantomime than oral intelligence, was
replied to by an equivalent telegraph; but the sheriffs, in all their
gala, soon took their places in the carriage and set out for the palace.

Their reception was most flattering; enough to say, they had the honour
to address and be replied to by one of the most courteous princes of
Europe. An invitation to dinner, the usual civility to a newly arrived
mission, ensued, and the Irish embassy, overwhelmed with the brilliant
success of their journey, returned to the hotel in a state of exaltation
that bordered on ecstasy.

Their corporation address, formidable by its portentous parchment and
official seal, had puzzled the Foreign Office in no ordinary way, and
was actually under their weighty consideration the following day, when
the King most unexpectedly made his _entree_ into the capital. King
Ernest heard with some amazement, not unmingled by disbelief, that an
Irish diplomatic body had actually arrived at his court, and immediately
demanded to see their credentials. There is no need to recount the
terrible outbreak of temper which his Majesty displayed on discovering
the mistake of his ministers. The chances are, indeed, that, had he
called himself Pacha instead of King, he would have sentenced the Irish
ambassador and his whole following to be hanged like onions on the one
string. As it was, he could scarcely control his passion; and whatever
the triumphant pleasures of the day before, when a dinner-card fo