his intimates, who would not have been such, had he been otherwise viciously inclined; the Duncombs, in particular, father and son, who were of unblemished morals.

W. C.

ON THE QUEEN's VISIT TO LONDON,

The Night of the 17th March, 1789.

When long sequester'd from his Throne

George took his seat again,
By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign!

Then Loyalty, with all her lamps
New trimm'd, a gallant show!
Chasing the darkness, and the damps,
Set London in a glow.

'Twas hard to tell, of streets, or squares,
Which form'd the chief display,

These most resembling cluster'd stars,
Those the long milky way.

Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,

And rockets flew, self-driven,

To hang their momentary fires

Amid the vault of heaven.

So,

So, fire with water to compare,

The ocean serves on high, Up-spouted by a Whale in air, To express unwieldy joy.

Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession join'd,
And all the banners been unfurl'd
That heralds e'er design'd,

For no such sight had England's Queen
Forsaken her retreat,

Where George recover'd made a scene
Sweet always, doubly sweet.

Yet glad she came that night to prove

A witness undescried,

How much the object of her love

Was lov'd by all beside.

Darkness the skies had mantled o'er
In aid of her design—
Darkness O! Queen! ne'er call'd before
To veil a deed of thine!

On borrow'd wheels away she flies,

Resolv'd to be unknown,

And gratify no curious eyes

That night, except her own.

Arriv'd,

Arriv'd, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum ;
As all by instinct, like the bees,

Had known their Sov'reign come.

Pleas'd she beheld aloft pourtray'd
On many a splendid wall,
Emblems of health, and heav'nly aid,
And George the theme of all.

Unlike the ænigmatic line,

So difficult to spell!

Which shook Belshazzar, at his wine,

The night his city fell.

ble, but London folks must be content to be troubled by country folks; for in London only, can our strange necessities be supplied.

VOL. I.

U U

You

You must buy for me, if you please, a Cuckow Clock; and now I will tell you where they are sold, which, Londoner as you are, it is possible you may not know. They are sold, I am informed, at more houses than one, in that narrow part of Holborn which leads into Broad St. Giles'. It seems they are well-going clocks and cheap, which are the two best recommendations of any clock. They are made in Germany, and such numbers of them are annually imported, that they are become even a considerable article of

commerce.

I return you many thanks for Boswell's Tour. I read it to Mrs. Unwin after supper, and we find it amusing. There is much trash in it, as there must always be in every narrative that relates indiscriminately all that passed. But now and then the Doctor speaks like an oracle, and that makes amends for all. Sir John was a coxcomb, and Boswell is not less a coxcomb, though of a another kind. I fancy Johnson made coxcombs of all his friends, and they in return made him a coxcomb; for, with reverence be it spoken, such he certainly was, and flattered as he was, he was sure to be so.

Thanks for your invitation to London, but unless London can come to me, I fear we shall never meet. I was sure that you would love my friend, when you should once be well acquainted with him; and equally sure that he would take kindly to you.

Now for Homer.

W. C.

LETTER