The dialogue possesses that appetizing quality which dramatists term "touch and go,”—and all the prominent actors of the period, such as the pragmatical Hugh Pet rs, and that wholesale murderer, Hopkins the witch-finder, are introduced upon the stage, and play their parts in a life-like manner.

up to the death of the Queen; and in a hundred public places, where I saw him, but no more; he never missed Court of a Sunday, where once or twice he was pointed out to your grandfather. He would have sought me out eagerly enough, ad I been a great man with a title to my name, or a star on my coat. At Court the Doctor had no eyes but for the very greatest. Lord Treasurer and St. John used to call him Jonathan, and they paid him in this cheap coin for the service THE MAJOR. Oh, shut up, will you! We they took of him. He writ their lampoons, live in too free an age to discuss politics with fought their enemies, flogged and bullied in their impunity! Our generation boasts of super-service, and it must be owned, with a consumlatively thin skins!

THE DOCTOR.-What are the politics of the writer?

THE LAIRD.-And thick heads to match! THE MAJOR.-Permit me to make you acquainted with decidedly the greatest hit in the walk of fiction, which has been made since the commencement of the current year. allude to The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., Colonel in the service of Her Majesty Queen

Anne.

I

THE DOCTOR.--Oh, that is Thackeray's latest born bantling! Is it indeed so very fine?

mate skill and fierceness. 'Tis said he hath lost his intellect now, and forgotten his wrongs and his rage against mankind. I have always thought of him and of Marlborough as the two greatest men of that age. I have read his books (who doth not know them?) here in our calm woods, and imagined a giant to myself as I think of him, a lonely fallen Prometheus, groaning as the vulture tears him. Prometheus I saw, but when first I ever had any words with him, the giant stepped out of a sedan-chair in the Poultry, whither he had come with a tipsy Irish servant parading before him, who announced him, bawling out his Reverence's name, while his master below was as yet haggling with the chairman."

THE DOCTOR.-An it so please you, let us have a sample of the dialogue which has so much taken your fancy.

THE MAJOR.-Permit me to introduce you

THE MAJOR.-In my humble notion, it will take rank as one of the prose classics of Old England; the accomplished author has succeeded in producing a picture of society as existing during the first twenty years of the last century, which has all the minute characteristics of reality. The reader drinks with Sir Richard Steele, smokes with gentle Addison, conspires with Atterbury, and bullies with Dean Swift, as with familiar acquaintWith a skill which could only have been acquired by the most patient and discriminating study, hackeray presents us with, what we may term a fac simile of the colloquial style of Queen Anne's era; indeed the reader is more than half seduced with the belief that he is perusing a hitherto unpub-man to anything.' lished paper of the Tattler or Spectator.

ances.

THE DOCTOR.--Some critics have complained that the story lacks plot, and consequently interest.

THE MAJOR.-I am of a different opinion. The narrative, it is true, does not contain many abrupt transitions, or startling situations, but never for one instant does its interest flag, or get crippled. Old Philip Massinger would have cottoned to the man who drew the character of the fair but wayward Beatrix! The bold lights and shades in that most artistic sketch, would have won the heart of the creator of Sir Giles Overreach!

THE LAIRD.-Though nane o' us are cannibals, we would like to hac a preeing o' this same Colonel Esmond! Gie us a sample o' the gear ye praise sae highly?

THE MAJOR. With much pleasue! The main difficulty lies in selecting from such a wealth of excellence! Here is a severe, but truthful estimate of that "inspired brute" the Dean of St. Patricks:

"As for the famous Dr. Swift, I can say of him, vidi tantum. He was in London all these years

to a fashionable dinner party circa 1712. The Mrs. Steele is the pretty, but vulgar helpmate of the immortal Sir Richard:

"Mr. St. John made his special compliments to Mrs. Steele, and so charined her, that she declared she would have Steele a Tory too.

"Or will you have me a Whig ?" says Mr. St. John. "I think, madam, you could convert a

"If Mr. St. John ever comes to Bloomsbury Square, I will teach him what I know," says Mrs. 66 Do you Steele, dropping her handsome eyes. know Bloomsbury Square?" "Do I know the Mall? Do I know the Opera? Do I know the reigning toast ? Why, Bloomsbury is the very height of the mode," says Mr. St. John. 'Tis rus in urbe, You have gardens all the way to Hampstead, and palaces round about you-Southampton House and Montague House."

"Where you wretches go and fight duels," cries Mrs. Steele.

"Of which the ladies are the cause says her entertainer. “Madam, is Dick a good swordsman? How charming the Tatler is! We all recognised your portrait in the 49th number, and I have been dying to know you ever since I read it. Aspasia must be allowed to be the first of the beauteous order of love.' Doth not the passage run so? In this accomplished lady love is the constant effect, though it is never the design; yet though her mien carries much more invitation than command, to behold her is an immediate check to loose behaviour, and to love her is a liberal education."

"O, indeed!" says Mrs. Steele, who did not

Whether 'tis the sublime or the humorous, no man can come near him," cries Steele.

"A fig, Dick, for your Mr. Addison!" cries out his lady; "a gentleman who gives himself such airs and holds his head so high now. I hope your ladyship thinks as I do: I can't bear those very fair men with wh te eyelashes-a black man for me. (All the black men at table applauded, and made Mrs. Steele a bow for this compliment. As for this Mr. Addison," she went on," "he comes to dine with the Captain sometimes, never says a word to me, and then they walk up-stairs, both tipsy, to a dish of tea. I remember your Mr. Addison when he had but one coat to his back, and that with a patch at the elbow."

"Indeed a patch at the elbow ! You interest me," says Mr. St. John. "Tis charming to hear of one man of letters from the charming wife of another."

"Law! I could tell you ever so much about 'em," continues the voluble lady. "What do you think the Captain has got now?-a little hunchback fellow-a little hop-o'-my-thumb-creature that he calls a poet-a little popish brat !" "Hush, there are two in the room," whispers her companion.

giving the most unequivocal tokens of a night of reversed, which, combined with the mournful heavy rain. As daylight came, a dusky mass of music and the slow funeral pace at which they armed men, seen on the left side of the parade, marched, had a singularly imposing effect. To facing towards the Horse Guards, became distinguishable as the Rifles, their sombre uniforms' harmonizing with the occasion. Looking to the right, the eye rested next, through the grey morning, on the 1st battalion of Royal Marines and the 33rd Regiment, drawn up in column, directly opposite the Horse Guards. To the right of these were the Fusilier, Coldstream, and Grenadier Guards, the whole force forming an imposing array to British eyes, though small in comparison with continental musters. At the east end of the Mall might be observed the head of the cavalry force, comprising eight squadrons from the most distinguished regiments in the service. There were the 17th Lancers, the 13th Light Dragoons, the 8th Hussars, the Scots Greys, the 6th Dragoon Guards, the Blues, and the 1st and 2nd Life Guards, and gallant and splendid they looked on a closer survey, as, drawn up in military precision, they awaited the signal to start. The infantry formed the most striking feature of the spectacle-their standards covered with crape drooping heavily, and swayed about occasionally by the bearers, while the morning light glimmered faintly upon the serried rows of bayonets. Lord Hardinge appeared at half past seven o'clock, and his presence greatly accelerated the preparations. The coffin was removed from the chamber in which it had rested during the night, and by the aid of machinery was raised to its position on the lofty summit of the car. At eight o'clock the hangings of the tent which concealed it from the view, were suddenly furled up. The first minute gun was fired, the troops presented arms and saluted the body, upon which the roll of muffled drums followed by the music of the "Dead March" in Saul, announced that the procession had commenced. This was one of the most impressive and striking features in the ceremonial, and the effect of it will long be remembered by the multitudes who, from every window, platform, balcony, and housetop overlooking the park, had a view of the spectacle.

the troops the mourning coaches and carriages, properly marshalled, succeeded; and the length of the procession may be imagined when we state that though the Rifles led the way, at 8 o'clock, it was 25 minutes past 9 before the car started, and half an hour later before the extreme rear was in motion. The strains of music, marshal yet solemn in its character, rise, die away, and are taken up again at intervals, and at length the moment has arrived for the funeral car to move for ward. As it formed by far the most magnificent and interesting feature of the procession, some account of its design and most prominent details will not be out of place. The whole lower part is of bronze, supported on six wheels, and elaborated with an amount of skill and artistic feeling which deserves unqualified praise. Above this metallic framework rises a rich pediment of gilding, in the panels of which the list of victories is inscribed. On the sides of this pediment were arranged lofty trophies of arms, including spears, muskets, bayonets, swords and flags, and surmounted by his heraldic badges and honors, including the tabard magnificently wrought and embroidered. Over the bier and its bearers, the gilded handles of which protruded from beneath, was arranged the sumptuous velvet pall, powdered with silver, and showing the legend round it, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord," and terminated by a magnificent fringe of silver two feet deep. The coflin, with the Duke's hat and sword resting on it, surmounted the bier, and from four great halberts rising at each corner was suspended a magnificent canopy, with pendent cords and tassels of the richest and most costly description. To this gigantic vehicle, 27 feet long, 10 feet broad, 17 feet high, and weighing from 10 to 11 tons, 12 of the largest and finest black horses that could be procured were harnessed three abreast.-They were completely covered with velvet housings, having the arms of the deceased splendidly embroidered on them, and with heads surmounted by nodding plumes they looked quite elephantine. To stamp the funeral with a military character, Such was the funeral car as it fell into the line of the troops led the way, the regiments of which procession surrounded by a swarm of undertakers' the Duke was colonel having precedence. All men, and having on each side five colonels on branches of the service-infantry, cavalry and horseback, bearing the bannerols of the Wellesley artillery-were represented, to show the full scope family. On its way towards the east end of the of the Commannder-in-Chief's and of a Field-Mar- Mall many members of Parliament and peers who shal's dignity. The veteran character of the de- had assembled at this point uncovered as it passed. ceased-his experience in war, and the length of We now proceed to give some idea, not of the days with which he had been blessed, notwith-pageant itself, for its length precluded the possi standing its risks, are the next points illustrated; bility of seeing more than detached portions of it and, to realize these to the mind, the Chelsea pen- at a time, but rather of the public reception sioners, the enrolled pensioners, and the corps made up of single soldiers from every regiment in the service, took part in the procession. The East India Company's army was also represented, to show the wideness of the sphere to which the Duke's services has extended, and to recall the memory of those famous eastern fields on which he won his earliest laurels.

which it experienced on its way, and of the unexampled spectacle which the streets of this metropolis exhibited throughout the day. Words are, we feel, completely powerless to convey any thing like a just idea of a demonstration so marvellous. On no occasion in modern times has such a concourse of people been gathered together, and never probably has the sublimity which is expressed by the presence of the masses been so transcendently displayed. The progress, too, of the procession imparted to it in this respect an almost dramatic unity and completeness, far, from the regions of palaces and great mansions,

witness the ceremonial, for the people were every where-built into the walls, swarming in the streets, and clustered like bees on every projection and parapet. When St. James Street was reached, the double view, first castward along Piccadilly, and then down towards the Palace, was singularly impressive. There must have been 30,000 people within range of sight at this point, and the orderly and respectful behaviour of even the humblest among them, crowded and hemmed in as they were, cannot be too highly praised. The entire breadth of Piccadilly was closed in with an embankment of men and women, numbers of waggons, carts, coaches and omnibusses, having been placed in the roadway to give their occupants a more commanding view. The line of procession now led along the region of clubs, the fronts of which were for the most part fitted with balconies draped in black, and there, or within the shelter of wide plate glass windows, sat immense numbers of ladies, provided with places by the courtesy and gallantry of the mem

and from the assemblages of the wealthy, the from the route which it was taking, a new featitled, and the great, it passed, first, among great ture of the most remarkable kind began to devegatherings of the middle classes, then through lope itself. The entrances of those side streets thoroughfares swarming with myriads of the were completely built up with living masses of people, and finally closed its course at the lofty men and women, forming, to all appearances, a threshold of the metropolitan cathedral, the cen- mound or rampart of heads, which were all duly tre of London, now engaged by a new tie to the and respectfully uncovered as the stately funeral affections of the country, by having deposited car swept by. The windows too as far as the eye under its dome the ashes of England's greatest could reach, had people thrust from them eagerly son. The first remarkable assemblage of spect-gazing, and the house tops, of course, had their ators that received the procession on its course, adventurous crowds of occupants. It almost after leaving the area of the parade, was collected seemed that the whole world had assembled to on the long-terraced balconies of Carlton gardens, and on the wide steps ascending to the Duke of York's column. At the latter point an immense concourse had gathered, amounting to many thousands. Few had availed themselves of the space within the railings of the park on either side of the Mall; but in the grounds behind Marlborough-house many spectators had taken up their position, and a gallery had been erected in the gardens of Stafford-house, which was occupied by the Sutherland family and a large circle of friends. When the car arrived in front of Buckingham Palace, it halted for a short time, giving Her Majesty and the Royal Family, who were in the balcony, above the main entrance, a good opportunity of seeing it. The windows and parapets of the grand facade were all occupied, but the view into the court-yard was left open, and this perspective of the Royal edifice, rendered it one of the most picturesque and effective coups d'œil in the progress of the procession. Passing up Constitution Hill, as the car approached Grosvenor Gate, the numbers assem-bers. Crockfords and the Conservative Club bled within the Park greatly increased, and near- were the two buildings which seemed to hold the ly all the trees were filled with spectators. At greatest number of people, and which made the the gate itself a halt was made, and the eye na- greatest show in this portion of the line of proturally turned, in the first place to Apsley House cession. The car had reached the foot of St. which was completely closed, and had a strange, James' Street about half past ten, having occutenantless, deserted look, in the midst of the vast pied an hour on its way there from the Horse multitudes assembled all around it. The top of Guards. It, therefore, became evident that it Grosvenor Place was filled, as far as a sight of would arrive at the cathedral in excellent time. the procession could be obtained, with a vast sea At the St. James' Palace Her Majesty and the of human faces, upturned and anxiously gazing Royal family had a second view of the procession, at the pageant which swept along. Every win-occupying for that purpase apartments close to the dow was filled, the housetops also swarmed with main entrance. The great clubs along Pall-Mall people, and the portico and roof of St. George's overflowed with visitors, and their handsome archiHospital especially were crowned with human tectural proportions never looked more striking beings. Another striking point of view was or beautiful than when thus animated and relieved formed by the arches leading into Hyde Park, by such vast assemblages of well-dressed people. the architecture of which acquired a new ex--The Oxford and Cambridge Club, the Army and pression from the manner in which the people Navy, the Carlton, the Reform, the Traveller's, had grouped themselves within, above, and and the Athenæum, all swarmed with occupants. around it. Like Apsley House, Baron Roths- their balconies being hung with black, and hosts child's mansion and that of Miss Burdett Coutts of ladies appearing in the best seats. Perhaps were kept strictly closed, but at all the other along the whole route there was no single street great houses along the west end of Piccadilly the which presented more objects of attraction and windows and balconies were completely occupied greater facilities for observation to foot passengers by the families who inhabit them, or their friends, than Pall-Mall, and, yet oddly enough, its pavewhile the pavement on either side of the way ments were less encumbered than anywhere else, was filled to the kerb-stone with people. The and the people who were on them moved along long screen in front of Devonshire House was without interruption.-At Waterloo-place, howfitted up with spacious galleries, which were all ever, a very different aspect in this respect was crowded. The Coventry Club appeared to be for presented, and the view up Regent-street, along the day in the possession of the ladies, who occu- towards Cockspur-street, and on the right-hand pied its handsomely draperied balconies. And side in the direction of the Duke of York's column, now, as the procession approached the head of was really astounding. In addition, however, to St. James Street, and passed across the en- the number of people within one's glance at this trances of the streets diverging on both hands point, there was something particularly touching

VOL. II-G

and the clergy, who, in double line extending along the nave, waited for service to begin, vainly sheltering their faces in their robes. Garter and his colleagues stood it out bravely, and, after many efforts, at length succeeded in marshalling the procession. It was a fine and an imposing sight to see the muster of old veterans at the entrance during this detention-Sir William Napier sitting on a kettle-drum-Sir Charles moving about with the activity of a much younger man-Lord Hardinge also vigorous, and full of life; but most wonderful of all, the Marquis of Anglesey, with bald, uncovered head, apparently unconscious of the fact that age stands exposure to cold less successfully than youth.

It is now 11 o'clock. These files of infantry have ended, and after an interval the procession comes. It is still military. Sometimes there is a succession of guns, sometimes dark masses of Guards. At intervals there are the bands of various regiments. It is very striking these successive bands; as one passes by the church, and the music dies upon the ear, the notes of the next band begin to be heard, making up the wail. Major-General, his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, who commands the troops employed, is riding about, and giving the requisite directions. Now comes the 83 Chelsea pensioners, wearing their medals; it is a company which seem to excite general interest; the soldiers went past the church,

in the muster of old officers at the Senior United, many of whom looked with unusual earnestness at the great car, as with its illustrious burden, to the roll of drums and the fitful strains of marshal music, it rolled upon its way. The Haymarket and Trafa`gar-square were, like Waterloo-place, great centres of attraction. At the latter point there could not have been much less than 40,000 people assembled; and the National Gallery, the roof of which was covered with spectators, borrowed from the scene a grace and animation which it never knew before. At Charing-cross, as along the entire route, nothing could be more remarkable than the decorum and orderly conduct of the multitude, who preserved an imposing and expressive silence as the car went by. The humblest man bared his head in the same reverential manner as to his | betters, and the only cry that was heard was, now and then, "Off hats!" Along the Strand and the streets adjoining it the multitude thickened, both on pavement and in houses, and appeared if possible to grow denser. The first part of the procession was remarkable from the well filled balconies of private mansions and assemblages of a well dressed commonality.-To that succeeded the display of the clubs. From Charing-cross a new phase in the character of the funeral pageant and its reception became apparent.--The demonstration of respect became parochial and the churches formed the great centres for spectators. St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, St. Mary's-in-the-Strand, St.-the pensioners go in. Next, the "one soldier Clements-le Danes, and St. Dunstan's were yester- from every regiment"—an interesting_group.day honored with larger congregations, than proba- The procession now begins to be one of carriages bly ever visited them before. Thousands of people and mourning coaches; and the time consumed filled the spacious balconies that surrounded them, in setting down their occupants at the door, made and we trust that the funds which the parish this part of the procession rather tedious. The authorities have been enabled to realize may be Sheriff's approach, but they are hardly in keeping large enough to be substantially useful to the with a funeral procession; their gay decorations charities to which they are applied. All the cross require some signs of mourning about them on streets leading out of the Strand presented in a such an occasion. The Speaker is there in his still more striking manner, the appearances which quaint State Carriage; and the Lord Mayor in we have described at earlier points in the route. that capacious vehicle of his, which, after all, the The shop windows had been turned to account in citizens have seen in procession in November a most marvellous way, and inclosed numbers of before. Now come three Royal carriages, with full-grown people. compressing themselves for the those noble horses which it is a treat to see: the occasion into the dimensions of the charity-school third carriage brings Prince Albert. We cannot children, and looking perfectly placid and resigned see him, but the salute as he passes the troops under circumstances that would be ordinarily re- proclaims his presence. We miss the foreign garded as amounting to the peine forte et dure. batons, but it is because they are carried in close The men kept the line of procession clear through- mourning coaches. All eyes watch for the funeral out without any inconvenience; and it is due to car. It is drawn by 12 black horses, three abreast, the public to say that they never were better and covered with velvet, presented such a dark behaved or less disposed to be troublesome. The foreground that we can hardly see whether the car arrived at the entrance to the cathedral about car is drawn by horses or not. The car is driven ten minutes after twelve, and preparations for the in at the churchyard gates, and drawn up in front removal of the coffin were immediately made, but of the great western door; the relations of the something was wrong, or went wrong, and the Duke are set down at the side entrance. After consequence was a delay of nearly an hour and a them follows that touching sight-the horse led half before the funeral procession down the nave after the bier of its master. There still remains could be formed. In the interval, and while the a very interesting passage. Officers and men from undertaker's men used every exertion to facilitate every regiment in the service march past. The the unloading of the car, the entrance of the churchyard from the entrance up to the car is cathedral presented a singular and not uninterest-cleared; the coffin is there before all eyes; the ing appearance.

Duke of Cambridge, the Commander, stands at There were old generals and field officers, the the gate, with his sword drawn in his hands, and illustrious companions in arms of the Duke, endur- the men who represent the whole army of England ing as best they could the force of the searching march slowly and sadly by. There has not been November wind which blew keenly through the a more striking or effective circumstance in the open doorway of the sacred edifice. The distin-proceedings of the day. The soldiers seemed to guished foreigners withdrew before it several times, be impressed with the situation. It is the final