bidding him go and tell the duke to rise, as there was a great deal of company come, and, among others, the ambassador from Algiers. Then, turning to us, ‘This poor Turk (said he), notwithstanding his grey beard, is a green horn. He has been several years resident in London, and still is ignorant of our political revolutions. This visit is intended for the prime minister of England; but you’ll see how this wise duke will receive it as a mark of attachment to his own person.’ Certain it is, the duke seemed eager to acknowledge the compliment. A door opening, he suddenly bolted out, with a shaving-cloth under his chin, his face frothed up to the eyes with soap lather; and, running up to the ambassador, grinned hideous in his face. ‘My dear Mahomet! (said he) God love your long beard, I hope the dey will make you a horse-tail at the next promotion, ha, ha, ha! Have but a moment’s patience, and I’ll send to you in a twinkling.’ So saying, he retreated into his den, leaving the Turk in some confusion. After a short pause, however, he said something to his interpreter, the meaning of which I had great curiosity to know, as he turned up his eyes while he spoke, expressing astonishment, mixed with devotion. We were gratified by means of the communicative captain C—, who conversed with the dragoman, as an old acquaintance. Ibrahim, the ambassador, who had mistaken his grace for the minister’s fool, was no sooner undeceived by the interpreter, than he exclaimed to this effect: ‘Holy prophet! I don’t wonder that this nation prospers, seeing it is governed by the counsel of ideots; a series of men, whom all good mussulmen revere as the organs of immediate inspiration!’ Ibrahim was favoured with a particular audience of short duration; after which the duke conducted him to the door, and then returned to diffuse his gracious looks among the crowd of his worshippers.

As Mr. Barton advanced to present me to his grace, it was my fortune to attract his notice before I was announced. He forthwith met me more than half way, and, seizing me by the hand, ‘My dear sir Francis! (cried he) this is so kind—I vow to Gad! I am so obliged. Such attention to a poor broken minister. Well. Pray when does your excellency set sail? For God’s sake have a care of your health, and eat stewed prunes in the passage. Next to your own precious health, pray, my dear excellency, take care of the Five Nations—our good friends the Five Nations—the Toryrories, the Maccolmacks, the Out-o’the-ways, the Crickets, and the Kickshaws. Let ’em have plenty of blankets, and stinkubus, and wampum; and your excellency won’t fail to scour the kettle, and boil the chain and bury the tree, and plant the hatchet—ha, ha, ha!’ When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual precipitation, Mr. Barton gave him to understand, that I was neither sir Francis, nor St. Francis, but simply Mr. Melford, nephew to Mr. Bramble; who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time. ‘Odso! no more it is sir Francis (said this wise statesman). Mr. Melford, I’m glad to see you. I sent you an engineer to fortify your dock. Mr. Bramble—your servant, Mr. Bramble—how d’ye, good Mr. Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young fellow—faith and troth, a very pretty fellow! ‘His father is my old friend—how does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned disorder, ha?’ ‘No, my lord (replied my uncle), all his troubles are over: he has been dead these fifteen years.’ ‘Dead! how! Yes, faith! now I remember: he is dead, sure enough. Well, and how—does the young gentleman stand for Haverford West? or—a—what d’ye? My dear Mr. Milfordhaven, I’ll do you all the service in my power: I hope I have some credit left.’ My uncle then gave him to understand, that I was still a minor; and that we had no intention to trouble him at present, for any favour whatsoever. ‘I came hither with my nephew (added he) to pay our respects to your grace; and I may venture to say, that his views and mine are at least as disinterested as those of any individual in this assembly.’ ‘My dear Mr. Brambleberry! you do me infinite honour. I shall always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr. Milfordhaven. My credit, such as it is, you may command. I wish we had more friends of your kidney.’

Then, turning to captain C—, ‘Ha, C—! (said he) what news, C—? How does the world wag? ha!’ ‘The world wags much after the old fashion, my lord (answered the captain): the politicians of London and Westminster have begun again to wag their tongues against your grace; and your short-lived popularity wags like a feather, which the next puff of anti-ministerial calumny will blow away.’ ‘A pack of rascals (cried the duke)—Tories, Jacobites, rebels; one half of them would wag their heels at Tyburn, if they had their deserts.’ So saying, he wheeled about; and, going round the levee, spoke to every individual, with the most courteous familiarity; but he scarce ever opened his mouth without making some blunder, in relation to the person or business of the party with whom he conversed; so that he really looked like a comedian, hired to burlesque the character of a minister. At length, a person of a very prepossessing