tiers any man likely to create in her heart those exquisite feelings which she had heard designated by the name of love-a real passion such as should ingross all her womanly sympathies. Under this head she did not class the frivolous attachments Mary Bellenden regarded as conquests, for Sophy Howe was a creature of warm and generous impulses-much too susceptible and much too imprudent for her own peace.

Fanny Meadows neither talked much nor thought much. In fact, she affected great indifference about going to Court, and was not quite satisfied it was a creditable place; nevertheless, Fanny Meadows partook largely of the general excitement, and was extremely curious to know who she was likely to meet, and what sort of people they were.

But the grand subject of debate among the aspirants for Court favour was the dress they ought to appear in; and in the chamber so long devoted to their mutual confidences, long and animated were the discussions respecting the materials, colours and styles they should each adopt. Some awkward irregularities might have occurred had they not agreed to ask counsel from so distinguished a guide in dress as Lady Wortley

Montagu, by whose knowledge and taste they were at last put in the way of appearing according to Court rules.

There happened just then to be no less stir in St. James's than there was at Petersham Manor. The important discovery that had been made respecting the King's intended assassination had excited the whole establishment; and the ministers had been indefatigable, not only in tracing this conspiracy, but in endeavouring to defeat the great movement with which the kingdom was threatened by the friends of the Pretender.

The King was extremely disturbed-rarely allowed the attendance upon him of any one except his two Turkish guards, servants, and gossips. The accounts he received from his ministers were of a most unpleasant nature. He loved to be left undisturbed; yet when alone he was haunted by the pallid countenance we have elsewhere noticed, which intruded upon him in the council chamber, in the apartments of his mistress, and even in the saloons of the palace when he was surrounded by company.

His Majesty was at this particular period far from being in an amiable mood. He was incensed against his ministers; he was terribly

bitter against his son; he was excessively violent with those of his English subjects who seemed desirous of disclaiming his authority. If he had not been perfectly satisfied that, notwithstanding the extraordinary plucking the country had had since his arrival, it would bear a great deal more, he would have magnanimously turned his back upon it, and set sail for Hanover. But his ambition to be at the head of one of the great powers of Europe was much stronger than his affection for his humble electorate; therefore his principal minister found no difficulty in prevailing upon him to hold a levée to receive the nobility and gentry desirous of making a demonstration of their loyalty to the reigning family.

Great preparations were made to render this courtly ceremony as imposing es possible; and Sir Robert Walpole was extremely pressing with all the supporters of his administration to get them to attend. It was a critical period. The country was on the eve of a rebellion, and unless the friends of order and good government were seen round the throne, the kingdom was lost. The palace was made to bear its most royal aspect, and all its inmates were to make as great a display of courtly finery as court etiquette allowed.

The fame of these preparations and the significance of the minister's intimations filled St. James's Street with sedans; indeed so strong a muster was there of these convenient machines, that the special constables and the grenadiers on guard in their sugar-loaf caps and black gaiters, had no slight difficulty in keeping order amongst the noisy chairmen.

The noblemen and gentlemen having escaped from their vehicles with as little damage as possible to their carefully dressed perriwigs, their ample skirts, their gaudy vests, their projecting swords, and their delicate silk stockings-had on making good their entrance at St. James's to force their way up the grand staircase of the palace, ordered and looked after by the proper officers of the household in all the pomp of embroidery and majesty of office.

There thronged country gentlemen of a thousand a year, and wealthy citizens ten times as rich; lord lieutenants of counties, admirals, generals, peers and parliament men, place-hunters, pensioners, bishops, captains and physicians; judges, mayors and corporations, and a whole Noah's ark of curious animals not so easy to classify, unless they were placed as a distinct

body, who sought the interior of St. James's in the full conviction that they were planting their feet on the first spoke of the ladder that should lead them to wealth and distinction.

If it was not very clear what they came for, there could be no question that they assisted materially in thronging the stairs. Indeed, they greatly helped to form such a highly respectable assemblage of the higher classes of England, as it was expected would create a powerful influence in favour of the unpopular sovereign.

During the period of waiting their reception, many of the groups managed to entertain themselves with a little confidential conversation. The subject, notwithstanding the place in which the speakers were, was generally the proceedings of the Pretender; and many were heard to speak very emphatically as to what they intended doing in favour of their honoured sovereign, in case there should be any contest; but of the most confident of these speakers, it so happened there was more than one who was suspected of being in communication with the son of King James, and who had voluntarily come to Court for the express purpose of removing these suspicions.

In the throne room a magnificent scene pre