re seemed to rush into both nose
and cheeks; and this produced an effect, the consciousness of which was,
perhaps, of no mean service in helping him to control himself. Upon the
whole if many princes have had a more graceful aspect, few have shown a
more striking one, and fewer still have warranted the impression by their
actions."

The work, as our readers may imagine, is from first to last, an ever
shifting round of adventure. It has its dark shades as well as its lively
tints. The Great Plague and Fire furnish ample materials for the former,
as do the court beauties and _intriguantes_ for the latter. An episodal
narrative of the Plague is one of the most touching pieces in the whole
work. At present we subjoin one of

_The Great Fire._

"I was pondering one night, as I was sitting in the parlour at
Mickleham,[1] looking at a beautiful moon, and delaying to go to bed, when
Bennett came in and told me, that there was a dreadful fire in London. One
of the tradesmen had brought news of a dreadful fire the day before; but
as every fire was dreadful, and I had seen the good people of London run
away from a cow, crying out, a "mad bull," I had thought nothing of it,
and was prepared to think as little of the new one. The old gentleman,
however, assuring me that both fires were one and the same, that it had
burnt a whole night and day, and was visible as far as Epsom, I thought it
time to see into the truth of the matter. I ordered my horse, and
promising to bring back a correct account, purely to satisfy the house
that there was no such thing, (for some of the domestics had kindred in
London,) I set off at a round gallop, looking towards the north, as if I
could already discern what I had doubted. Nobody was stirring at
Leatherhead; but at Epsom, sure enough, there was a great commotion, all
the people being at their doors, and vowing they saw the fire; which,
however, I could not discern. That there was a fire, however, and a
dreadful one, was but too certain, from accounts brought into the town
both by travellers and the inhabitants; so with the natural curiosity
which draws us on and on upon much less occasions, especially on a road, I
pushed forward, and soon had pretty clear indications of a terrible fire
indeed. I began to consider what the King might think of it, and whether
he would not desire to have his active servants about him. At Morden the
light was so strong, that it was difficult to persuade one's-self the