House, the Duke of York, Lady Northumberland, Lady M Coke, Lord Hertford, and I, all in one hackney-coach, and drove to the spot; it rained torrents, yet the lane was full of mob, and the house so full, we could not get in; at last they discovered it was the Duke of York, and the company squeezed themselves into one another's pockets to make room for us. The house, which is borrowed, and to which the ghost has adjourned, is wretchedly small; when we opened the chamber, in which were fifty people, with no light but one tallow candle at the end, we tumbled over the bed of the child to whom the ghost comes, and whom they are murdering by inches in such insufferable heat and stench. At the top of the room are ropes to dry clothes. I asked if we were to have rope-dancing between the acts. We had nothing; they told us, as they would at a puppet-show, that it would not come that night till seven in the morning, that is, when there were only 'prentices and old women. We stayed, however, till half after one. The Methodists have promised them contributions; provisions are sent in like forage, and all the taverns and ale-houses in the neighbourhood make fortunes. The most diverting part is to hear people wonder when it will be found out, as if there was any thing to find out; as if the actors would make their noises when they can be discovered."

FUNERAL OF GEORGE II.

"Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying the other night: I had never seen a royal funeral; nay, I walked as a rag of quality, which I found would be, and so it was, the easiest way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The prince's chamber hung with purple and a quantity of silver lamps, the coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six great chandeliers of silver on high stands had a very good effect. The ambassador from Tripoli and his son were carried to see the chamber. The procession through a line of foot guards, every seventh man bearing a torch, the horseguards lining the outside, their officers with drawn sabres and crape sashes on horseback, the drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling, and minute guns,-all this was very solemn. But

stances.

the charm was the entrance of the abbey, where we were received by the dean and chapter in rich robes, the choir and almsmen bearing torches; the whole abbey so illuminated, that one saw it to greater advantage than by day; the tombs, long aisles, and fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and with the happiest chiaroscuro. There wanted nothing but incense and little chapels here and there, with priests saying mass for the repose of the defunct; yet one could not complain of its not being Catholic enough. When we came to the chapel of Henry VII. all solemnity and decorum ceased: no order was observed; people sat or stood where they could or would; the yeomen of the guard were crying out for help, opprest by the immense weight of the coffin; the bishop read sadly, and blundered in the prayers; the fine chapter, 'Man that is born of a woman,' was chanted, not read; and the anthem, besides being immeasurably tedious, would have served as well for a nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the Duke of Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy circumHe had a dark brown adonis, and a cloak of black cloth, with a train of five yards. Attending the funeral of a father could not be pleasant; his leg extremely bad, yet forced to stand upon it near two hours; his face bloated and distorted with his late paralytic stroke, which has affected one of his eyes; and placed near the mouth of the vault, into which, in all probability, he must himself so soon descend; think how unpleasant a situation! He bore it with a firm and unaffected countenance. This grave scene was fully contrasted by the burlesque Duke of Newcastle. He fell into a fit of crying the moment he came into the chapel, and flung himself into a stall, the archbishop hovering over him with a smelling bottle: but in two minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy, and he ran about the chapel with his glass to spy who was or was not there, spying with one hand, and mopping his eyes with the other. Then returned the fear of catching cold; and the Duke of Cumberland, who was sinking with heat, felt himself weighed down, and turning round, found it was the Duke of Newcastle standing upon his train to avoid the chill of the marble. It was very theatric to look down into the vault where the coffin lay, attended by mourners with lights."

THE CANDIDATE.*

THIS Poem was written in 1764, on occasion of the contest between the Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich, for the Highstewardship of the University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no means were left untried by either candidate, to obtain a majority. The election was fixed for the 30th of March, when, after much altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded; whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate sine die. On appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accord

Churchill's repeated allusions in this poem to the political predilections of the University of Oxford, derive some of their pungency, no doubt, from the rejection he had there experienced. Those predilections had been invariably displayed in favour of the Stuarts und their adherents, so much so, that on the accession of the present reigning family, Oxford was in so disturbed a state as to render it necessary to station a troop of horse there under the command of General Pepper, in order to secure its obedience, about the same time that a munificent donation of books had been presented by the King to the University of Cambridge, on which the follow ing epigram, by an Oxonian, was circulated:

The king, observing with judicious eyes,
The state of both his Universities,

To Oxford sent a troop of horse; and why?
That learned body wanted loyalty:

To Cambridge books, as very well discerning
How much that loyal body wanted learning.

This was thus answered by Sir William Browne:
The king to Oxford sent a troop of horse,
For Tories own no argument but force;
With equal sense he books to Cambridge sent,
For Whigs admit no force but argument.

ingly. On a supposition that Lord Sandwich was favoured by the Crown, the following epigram was written:

A DOUBT.

To be Granta's high steward, when it comes to the choice, If't be true, for Lord Sandwich the king gives his voice,

Can any good subject refuse him?

But yet if the king to make the matter more nice,
Has declared that he means to discourage all vice,*

Pray mayn't we offend if we choose him?

On the publication of this poem Lord Bath wrote thus to his friend and protegé Colman. "I thank you for your letter, and the inclosed poem in it, which is in my opinion the severest and the best of all Churchill's works. He has a great genius, and is an excellent poet; there are to be sure some as fine lines as ever were writ, and some as low prosaic trash as ever came from Grub Street. One may plainly see that all his works are what the French call pieces rapporté. He has always a vast number of loose verses lying by him which he can bring into any poem that he wants to enlarge to the price of half-a-crown, and so sticks them in as he wants them. I cannot, however, in the main, approve of such abominable abuse. You know I never was famous for great partiality to ministers; I am acquainted with very few who are at present such, and I never would be one myself though often offered it. From these considerations, you may be sure that it is not any fondness of mine for great men, that makes me dislike this poem; but really, it is so scandalously abusive, that no one who has the least decency, can approve such Billingsgate stuff, running a muck, as Pope calls it, at once upon all mankind."

Among the sketches of characters generally attributed to the Earl of Chesterfield, is one of Lord Sandwich, in which the following passages occur:

"The art of robbing vice of its disgust, and throwing around it the mantle of convivial pleasure, belongs in a very peculiar manner, to this nobleman. I understand, that from his youth to the present time, he has proceeded in one uniform, unblushing course of debauchery and dissipation.

* Alluding to the royal proclamation for the discourage ment of vice and immorality.

His conversation is chiefly tinctured with unchaste expressions and indecent allusions; and some have assured me that, if these were to be omitted by him, much of his wit, or, at least, what is called his wit, would be lost.

"It was most certainly, a very serious business, and yet I could not help smiling at being informed of this nobleman's rising in the House of Lords and making a grave, laboured speech against a blasphemous production of Mr. Wilkes. Surely it was very mal-à-propos, as the whole kingdom must suspect his sincerity, and even his friends could not but feel the ridiculousness of his situation.* He is, however, an able and an active minister; his abilities are universally acknowledged; and although I have, at times, been not quite satisfied with him (for an immoral character will never possess my entire confidence), yet, on due examination, I have found him deserving the high station he possesses.

"It is a great imperfection in government, that a king, who is under the influence of religion, and feels the comforts and necessity of it, should be prevented from making a sense of it, and its sanctions a necessary qualification in his servants. The friends of this noble person, who partake the mirth and good humour of his jovial hours, have, no doubt, a great regard for him; but he is an unpopular character with the nation in general.

"I have been informed that he was seriously affected at the treatment he met with from the young men at Cambridge, when he was candidate for the office of High-steward to that University. It must, indeed, be extremely mortifying to a

* They did indeed! And who could have done otherwise, on hearing the exordium of the oration, which was to the following purport:

"I have a paper in my hand, whose contents are of such a horrible and detestable nature, that I almost wonder it did not draw down the immediate vengeance of heaven upon this nation.This shocking composition may be said to contain two parts; a blasphemous and an obscene part. I shall not shock the many Right Reverend Bishops who are present with a recital of the former, but shall confine my observations to the latter." He then read from bad to worse, until Lord Lyttelton interpsoed to stop the disgusting ribaldry.