ifty
thousand pounds."

"And Giglio, dear?" says the Queen.

"GIGLIO MAY GO TO THE ----"

"Oh, sir!" screams her Majesty. "Your own nephew! our late King's only
son."

"Giglio may go to the tailor's, and order the bills to be sent in to
Glumboso to pay. Confound him! I mean bless his dear heart. He need want
for nothing; give him a couple of guineas for pocket-money, my dear;
and you may as well order yourself bracelets while you are about the
necklace, Mrs. V."

Her Majesty, or MRS. V., as the monarch facetiously called her (for
even royalty will have its sport, and this august family were very
much attached), embraced her husband, and, twining her arm round her
daughter's waist, they quitted the breakfast-room in order to make all
things ready for the princely stranger.

When they were gone, the smile that had lighted up the eyes of the
HUSBAND and FATHER fled--the pride of the KING fled--the MAN was alone.
Had I the pen of a G. P. R. James, I would describe Valoroso's torments
in the choicest language; in which I would also depict his flashing
eye, his distended nostril--his dressing-gown, pocket-handkerchief, and
boots. But I need not say I have NOT the pen of that novelist; suffice
it to say, Valoroso was alone.

He rushed to the cupboard, seizing from the table one of the many
egg-cups with which his princely board was served for the matin meal,
drew out a bottle of right Nantz or Cognac, filled and emptied the cup
several times, and laid it down with a hoarse "Ha, ha, ha! now Valoroso
is a man again!"

"But oh!" he went on (still sipping, I am sorry to say), "ere I was a
king, I needed not this intoxicating draught; once I detested the hot
brandy wine, and quaffed no other fount but nature's rill. It dashes not
more quickly o'er the rocks than I did, as, with blunderbuss in hand,
I brushed away the early morning dew, and shot the partridge, snipe, or
antlered deer! Ah! well may England's dramatist remark, 'Uneasy lies
the head that wears a crown!' Why did I steal my nephew's, my young
Giglio's--? Steal! said I? no, no, no, not steal, not steal. Let me
withdraw that odious expression. I took, and on my manly head I set, the
royal crown of Paflagonia; I took, and with my royal arm I wield, the
sceptral rod of Paflagonia; I took, and in my outstretched hand I hold,
the royal orb of Paflagonia! Could a poor boy, a snivelling, drivelling
boy--was in his nurse's arms but yesterday, and cried for sugarplums a