A title for him's easily made;

And, by-the-by, one Christmas time,
If I remember right, he play'd

Lord MORLEY in some pantomime*;
As Earl of M-RL-Y then gazette him,
If t'other Earl of M-RL-Y'll let him.
(And why should not the world be blest
With two such stars, for East and West?)
Then, when before the Yellow Screen

He's brought-and, sure, the very essence
Of etiquette would be that scene

Of JOE in the Celestial Presence! He thus should say: "Duke Ho and Soo, "I'll play what tricks you please for you, "If you'll, in turn, but do for me "A few small tricks you now shall see.

"If I consult your Emperor's liking,

"At least you'll do the same for my King."

It was not Gri

*Mr. Fudge is a little mistaken here. maldi, but some very inferior performer, who played this part of "Lord Morley" in the pantomime, - -so much to the horror of the distinguished Earl of that name. The expostulatory letters of the Noble Earl to Mr. H-rr-s, upon this vulgar profanation of his spick-and-span new title, will, I trust, some time or other, be given to the world.

He then should give them nine such grins,

As would astound ev'n Mandarins ;

And throw such somersets before

The picture of King GEORGE (God bless him!) As, should Duke Ho but try them o'er, Would, by CONFUCIUS, much distress him!

I start this merely as a hint,

But think you'll find some wisdom in't;
And, should you follow up the job,
My son, my Lord (you know poor Вов),
Would in the suite be glad to go
And help his Excellency, JOE;-
At least, like noble AMH-RST's son,
The lad will do to practise on.*

* See Mr. Ellis's account of the Embassy.

LETTER X.

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY

WELL, it isn't the King, after all, my dear creature! But don't you go laugh, now-there's nothing to quiz in't—

For grandeur of air and for grimness of feature, He might be a King, DOLL, though, hang him, he isn't.

At first, I felt hurt, for I wish'd it, I own,

If for no other cause but to vex Miss MALONE,— (The great heiress, you know, of Shandangan, who's

here,

Showing off with such airs, and a real Cashmere*,
While mine's but a paltry, old rabbit-skin, dear!)
But Pa says, on deeply consid'ring the thing,
"I am just as well pleas'd it should not be the King;

* See Lady Morgan's "France" for the anecdote, told her by Madame de Genlis, of the young gentleman whose love was cured by finding that his mistress wore a shawl "peau de lapin."

"As I think for my BIDDY, so gentille and jolie, "Whose charms may their price in an honest way

fetch,

"That a Brandenburgh"-(what is a Brandenburgh, DOLLY?)

"Would be, after all, no such very great catch. "If the R-G-T indeed—” added he, looking sly— (You remember that comical squint of his eye) But I stopp'd him with "La, Pa, how can you say so, "When the R-G-T loves none but old women, know!"

you

Which is fact, my dear DOLLY-we, girls of eighteen, And so slim-Lord, he'd think us not fit to be seen; And would like us much better as old-ay, as old As that Countess of DESMOND, of whom I've been told

That she liv'd to much more than a hundred and ten, And was kill'd by a fall from a cherry-tree then! What a frisky old girl! but—to come to my lover,

Who, though not a King, is a hero I'll swear, – You shall hear all that's happen'd, just briefly run

over,

Since that happy night, when we whisk'd through

the air!

Let me see 'twas on Saturday—yes, DOLLY,

yes

From that evening I date the first dawn of my bliss ; When we both rattled off in that dear little carriage, Whose journey, Boв says, is so like Love and Marriage,

"Beginning gay, desperate, dashing, down-hilly,
"And ending as dull as a six-inside Dilly!”*
Well, scarcely a wink did I sleep the night through;
And, next day, having scribbled my letter to you,
With a heart full of hope this sweet fellow to
meet,

I set out with Papa, to see LOUIS DIX-HUIT
Make his bow to some half-dozen women and boys,
Who get up a small concert of shrill Vive le Rois-
And how vastly genteeler, my dear, even this is,
Than vulgar Pall-Mall's oratorio of hisses!
The gardens seem'd full-so, of course, we walk'd

o'er 'em,

'Mong orange-trees, clipp'd into town-bred decorum, And daphnes, and vases, and many a statue

There staring, with not ev'n a stitch on them, at you!

* The cars, on the return, are dragged up slowly by a chain.