ard. But

'Who would be grave--when wine can save
The heaviest soul from thinking,
And magic grapes give angel's shapes
To every girl we're drinking!'

~217~~ It was on one of these festive occasions, when whim, and wit, and
sparkling wine combined to render the festive scene the 'Feast of reason
and the flow of soul,' that the Prince of Wales invited himself and
his brother, the Duke of York, to dine with George Hanger. An honour
so unlooked for, and one for which George was so little prepared (as he
then resided in obscure lodgings near Soho-square), quite overpowered
the Colonel, who, however, quickly recovering his surprise, assured
his royal highness of the very high sense he entertained of the honour
intended him, but lamented it was not in his power to receive him, and
his illustrious brother, in a manner suitable to their royal dignity.
'You only wish to save your viands, George,' said the prince: 'we shall
certainly dine with you on the day appointed; and whether you reside on
the first floor or the third, never mind--the feast will not be the less
agreeable from the altitude of the apartment, or the plainness of the
repast.' Thus encouraged, George was determined to indulge in a joke
with his royal visitors. On the appointed day, the prince and duke
arrived, and were shown up stairs to George's apartments, on the second
floor, where a very tasteful banquet was set out, but more distinguished
by neatness than splendour: after keeping his illustrious guests waiting
a considerable period beyond the time agreed on, by way of sharpening
their appetites, the prince good-humouredly inquired what he meant to
give them for dinner?' Only one dish,' said George; 'but that one will,
I flatter myself, be a novelty to my royal guests, and prove highly
palatable.' 'And what may that be?' said the prince. 'The wing of a
wool-bird,' replied the facetious colonel. It was in vain the prince
and duke conjectured what this strange title could import, when George
appeared before them with a tremendous large red baking dish, ~218~~
smoking hot, in which was supported a fine well-browned shoulder of
mutton, dropping its rich gravy over some crisp potatoes. The prince and
his brother enjoyed the joke amazingly, and they have since been heard
to declare, they never ate a heartier meal in their life, or one (from
its novelty to them in the state in which it was served up), which they
have relished more. George had,