delectation. He had forgotten his Honor the Mayor, who had held fast to
the young man's arm as the four coal-black horses had pranced through the
crowds all the way from Barnum's Hotel to the Fair Grounds. His Royal
Highness forgot himself still further, and had at length withdrawn his
hands from the pockets of his ample pantaloons and thrust his thumbs into
his yellow waistcoat. And who shall blame him if Miss Virginia's replies
to his sallies enchained him?

Not the least impressive of those who stood by, smiling, was the figure
of the tall Colonel, his hat off for once, and pride written on his face.
Oh, that his dear wife might have lived to see this!

What was said in that historic interview with a future Sovereign of
England, far from his royal palaces, on Democratic sawdust, with an
American Beauty across a board counter, was immediately recorded by the
Colonel, together with an exact description of his Royal Highness's blue
coat, and light, flowing pantaloons, and yellow waist-coat, and colored
kids; even the Prince's habit of stroking his mustache did not escape the
watchful eye. It is said that his Grace of Newcastle smiled twice at Miss
Virginia's retorts, and Lord Lyons, the British Minister, has more than
two to his credit. But suddenly a strange thing happened. Miss Virginia
in the very midst of a sentence paused, and then stopped. Her eyes had
strayed from the Royal Countenance, and were fixed upon a point in the
row of heads outside the promenade. Her sentence was completed--with
some confusion. Perhaps it is no wonder that my Lord Renfrew, whose
intuitions are quick, remarked that he had already remained too long,
thus depriving the booth of the custom it otherwise should have had. This
was a graceful speech, and a kingly. Followed by his retinue and the
prominent citizens, he moved on. And it was remarked by keen observers
that his Honor the Mayor had taken hold once more of the Prince's elbow,
who divided his talk with Colonel Carver.

Dear Colonel Carvel! What a true American of the old type you were. You,
nor the Mayor, nor the rest of the grave and elderly gentlemen were not
blinded by the light of a royal Presence. You saw in him only an amiable
and lovable young man, who was to succeed the most virtuous and lovable
of sovereigns, Victoria. You, Colonel Carvel, were not one to cringe to
royalty. Out of respect for the just and lenient Sovereign, his mother,
you did honor to the Prince. But you di